


Damnit These Kids

by brejamison



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: And they get them!, Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, But he's trying, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e01 Trigon, Everyone needs a freaking hug!, Explicit Language, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Just lots of love to give, Nightmares, Nothing creepy!, Panic Attacks, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Episode: s02e01 Trigon, Protective Dick Grayson, Recovery, Road Trips, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22769419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brejamison/pseuds/brejamison
Summary: In which Dick takes Rachel, Jason, and Gar on a road trip after the Trigon situation for some much-needed R and R. Rachel tries to regroup. Gar tries to recover. Jason tries his best. And Dick tries to not fall apart.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Donna Troy, Dick Grayson & Garfield Logan, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Raven
Comments: 25
Kudos: 263





	1. It was Fine. Until It Wasn't.

They drove; Dick might have lied when he said he didn't know where they were going. In reality, he always had some semblance of a plan. It came from growing up with the Bat and always needing to be one step ahead of the guys with the guns. So even if he didn't know the exact steps, he knew the general destination. And that was somewhere safe, quiet, and so secluded from the rest of society he would have to stock up on medical supplies when they were still miles out. He knew Gar, who passed out as soon as the Jeep hitting cruising speed, needed his many injuries looked at. Rachel seemed to be more mentally and emotionally exhausted than anything, that final blow against her father certainly taking a lot out of her.

Of course Jason, aside from some nervous energy about the ensuing road trip and his assumed invitation to join the team (as if Dick was going to kick him out), seemed as lively as ever. Which was good because as the long stretch of road continued through Ohio countryside for miles and miles, Dick had a feeling he would be needing that spirit to keep him awake.

He hadn't even stopped to assess his own injuries, as few and far between as they were. Minor bumps and bruises, just enough to make him a little sore tomorrow if he didn't get a soft bed tonight. No, like a sailor looking at the red dawn, he knew exactly the kind of injuries he was in for this week. They were more of the mental variety, something that would give Scarecrow wet dreams.

Not that he had time for that, for any of it. Gar needed immediate medical attention. Rachel needed counseling - oh how he wished he could remember everything he had said to her while under Trigon's spell - and Jason, well, he wasn't sure just yet what to do with Jason, but he knew the boy needed something. Something bold and unmoving, but caring and gentle. Something that Bruce, for all his good intentions, didn't see or simply couldn't provide. Jason was a powder keg, ready to blow in the face of anyone who dared step on his fuse. But Dick sensed there was more to it than just teen hormones and a tragic backstory. He needed to be taught how to channel that rage productively. If he wanted to be mad at the world, fine, so be it. Dick had certainly gone through plenty of phases of that on his own. Jason needed to learn who to _not_ be mad at. Who deserved his raw rage and power and who needed a gentler, kinder word.

"Dick!" Jason hissed and Dick snapped back to reality, twisting at the steering wheel. The Jeep lurched back onto the road, tires dusting the outer curb. The older Robin swallowed and blinked, trying to refocus his eyes. He glanced at Jason, who had - at some point - traded with Gar for shotgun so the beast boy could lay out more comfortably in the back. Jason was twisted in his seat, talking with Rachel. Now, though, two sets of eyes were on Dick curiously.

"You want me to--"

"No."

"Come on, man," Jason groaned. "You know I know how."

"Yes, you've mentioned. But that doesn't mean..."

He raised an eyebrow challengingly. "What? That I'm qualified? I drive the kickest ass motorcycles for _fun_ , dude. I think I can handle a little four by four."

Dick shook his head, willing his eyes to stay open and thoughts to clear. "I'm not doubting your capabilities. Now's just not a good time, okay?" He didn't dare look at his young replacement, should the weariness under his eyes betray him. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine."

Jason didn't look impressed or convinced, Dick could tell, but he at least had the decency to concede. This time. "Alright, fine. But if I gotta yell at you again..."

"You won't have to."

He shrugged and, thankfully, dropped it.

Rachel leaned forward, her hand hovering above Dick's shoulder, like she wanted to touch him but was scared to. Jesus, what had he done to the kid when he was under?

"You okay?" she asked instead.

He spared her a glance in the rear-view mirror and a lopsided grin. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You did just banish your father to another dimension."

"Hell yeah she did!" Jason cheered quietly, giving that hovering hand a hearty high-five.

Her appreciative, albeit shy, smile brought a grin to Dick's face. "So, how's about it?" he continued. "You good? Need anything? Some food maybe?"

She made a face, which might have just been to stifle a yawn. "Nah, I'm good for now. Just a little sleepy, I guess."

He found her eyes again in the mirror, however briefly. "Why don't you lie down for a bit? We've still got some time before we hit civilization again. I can wake you when we get close."

She seemed to contemplate the idea and don't think he didn't catch the nervous glances she was sending his way. Luckily for him, the pavement at that exact moment needed his undivided attention. How fortunate.

Jason looked between them. " _Or_ , I can recall my exploits as anarchist, reprogramming an entire evil spy lab to self-destruct as it broadcast a message to world," he slipped in easily.

Rachel gave him a bewildered look. "You didn't do that."

Dick had to agree.

But Jason wasn't backing down. "Guess you'll never know the truth, then, _or_ what the message had to say. Either of you," he huffed, turning around in his seat to stare at the road.

It wasn't long after that, with no one else to talk to, that Rachel felt herself tiring out. After staring out silently at the passing trees, she finally accepted her fate and laid down, snuggling best she could into the fine leather. Dick watched her carefully, studying the worry lines on her young face as they slowly softened. He turned the radio up just slightly when she started to resist, no doubt scared of nightmares. But the music helped soothe her into restful unconsciousness. Once he was satisfied she was out, he turned the dial back down several degrees, letting the soft rock wash over the front half of the vehicle. He wished he could check in on Gar from here but didn't dare stop. Few things were as soothing as a car in constant, continual motion and he needed to get to those medical supplies sooner rather than later.

Jason made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat and Dick blinked, swerving slightly to correct their course.

"Thanks."

"Yup."

Silence stretched on and Dick felt rather quickly himself slipping again, eyes going unfocused on the road. "So..." he started, aiming for conversational, but ending up with too loud and forced to be natural. Damn Donna and his cursed inability to small talk. "Rent, huh?"

Jason chuckled. He waved his hands before him as if showing off a grand marquee. "Actual reality - ACT UP - Fight AIDS!"

Dick laughed somewhere in his throat. "Didn't realize you were such a theater nerd."

"Thespian."

"Thespian, right."

"And, for the record, Rent is a classic."

"Yeah if you're... how old are you?"

Jason gave him a look. "Old enough to know bullshit when I see it," he countered, looking pointedly at Dick's hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel as if he knew that was the only way he could keep them from shaking.

Still, it was a trick and Dick wasn't rising to it. "Yeah, well it's good a skill to have, especially when you live and work with the Bat."

Jason huffed again, turning forward. "It's not him I get the BS from."

That one threw Dick. "Oh?" Easy answer would be Dick himself, but there was a clipped edge to Jason's tone that made him think it was a wound far older and deeper than Dick not letting him drive.

Jason waved it off, though, with a sigh. "Forget it. Doesn't matter. Now that I'm part of the Titans I won't have to worry about them anymore."

"They? Who's they?"

"Someone I won't have to worry about anymore?" Jason answered smoothly, giving Dick a look like he couldn't believe he missed him saying it the first time. “Now that I’m with the Titans?”

Dick made a face, glancing out the window. Okay, fair, he deserved that one. "Look, I..." He sighed, unsure of where to go from here. "I don't want you to think I doubt your combat capabilities, alright? I've seen you fight. And even though I might not approve of all the people you decide to throw punches at, I can say you… well, you really know _how_ to throw punches. But Jason, this... this whole Titans thing, it's a team. And that's foreign to anyone who works with the Bat, I know, I came from there myself. But, being in with us, being a Titan, means you don't have to deal with... it means you don't have to throw those punches alone, okay? It means that if you need help, well, now you have someone to throw your punches for you." He finally finished and already hated himself (more so than usual) for how it came out. He wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders, here. But hopefully Jason wouldn't be an ass about it and just take it for what he meant; he had friends now, people he could rely on to help, so he didn't have to run from all his problems or face them alone.

After an agonizing second Jason burst out laughing. Dick nodded. So, an ass it was then.

"Dude, that, I swear, was some of the lamest stuff I have _ever_ heard! Is that your recruitment slogan? 'Come Join the Titans, So You Can Finally Have Someone to Throw Punches With!'”

Rachel stirred and Dick's eyes flew to the rear view protectively. "Okay, haha, yuck it up," he admonished quietly.

"No, dude, I would say you're the one who 'yucked' it up," the younger Robin snorted, though he did quiet down to a more peaceful volume. Still, he couldn't contain one last amused snort. "So you have someone to throw punches for you, Jesus."

"Okay, I get it, not my best work," Dick admitted. He was too tired to be teased, especially after trying to extend an olive branch like that. "But you do get the point."

"Yeah, yeah, I got you, old man."

And then there was that.

"'Old man'?"

"What? What would you rather be called?"

"How about not 'old man'? Maybe Grayson, or, or sir, or dude, or, hell, how about Dick, since, you know, that's my name."

Jason blinked at him. "Wait, you..." he pivoted excitedly. Dick rolled his eyes out the window, already hating where this was going. "So, just so I am getting this totally, 100% straight, not only do you _willingly_ call yourself 'dick', but you actually _prefer_ that other people do too? Are you serious?"

"It's a family name."

" _A FAMILY--_!”

"Yes! It's what my parents called me! But that, that's not the point..." He sighed, the pointless of this argument suddenly leaving him even more exhausted than he already was. "The point is, it's a respect thing. And I'm not Bruce, alright? I don't want to be your old man, or your father, or whatever it is you call it."

Jason was quiet for a minute, seemingly chewing over his response. A nice change of pace, if Dick was being honest.

"So..." the teen asked finally. "What do you want to be then?"

Dick sighed. Again. This kid couldn't make anything easy, could he? "I don't know, man," he muttered, not even trying anymore to keep the bone deep weariness from invading his voice. "Just... let's start with friend, how's that? See where that takes us."

Jason nodded, the exhaustion behind Dick’s tone finally enough to cool his jets. He settled back into the seat.

"So, I guess the whole 'Old Robin Trains the Younger, Cooler, Better Robin' is out then."

It was a simple jab. A textbook example of trying to get a rise. Dick knew this. Jason knew this. And Jason _knew_ that Dick knew this. But, most importantly, Dick was just too damn tired to care. So what if Jason was the faster, younger, strong, all-around better Robin? Who gave a damn? Dick was sure Bruce needed a more youthful sidekick in his old age, and from the sounds of it, Gotham could do with a bit of Jason's youthful spark. If Bruce decided Jason was to be Robin, fine, he was Robin now. Younger, better, faster was irrelevant. So long as he kept himself alive and, at the very least, morally intact by the time he wised up and got out, so much the better. Dick really couldn't give a rat's ass who was better. He was out, Jason was in, and that's all that mattered.

"I guess so."

"Huh. That's too bad." A thoughtful pause, possibly the longest Dick had ever seen the kid go without saying something. Dick thought that maybe, hopefully, this dreadful conversation would be over and he could just get back to brooding in his own thoughts and occasionally swerving off the road to keep himself awake. Then Jason opened his mouth because goddamnit of course he did.

"You know, what I said to you back there, about wanting to learn from you? That wasn't bullshit."

"I'm honored." He didn't care.

"Hey, I'm serious, man! I, well, I grew up hearing about you and the Bat and how kick ass you were."

"And how much I got my ass kicked too, I'm sure, didn't cross your mind."

Jason, the persistent little shit, kept right on going. "No, it did. All the time. But, hey, you got your ass kicked by a homicidal freak in clown make-up and I got mine by my alcoholic mother and dead-beat dad so, you know. At the end of the day, all that mattered was you got to wear a cape and work with Batman and I, well... I didn't."

"You wanted an outlet. Some control." Damnit, he cared.

"I guess so. Mainly I guess I just wanted to stop being so scared all of the time."

"So you found Batman, and he promised you all you ever hope for and more."

Jason made a face. "Well no, I didn't suck his dick or anything. But a chance to meet, to work with, hell, to _become_ Robin? Fuck yes I wanted in."

And just like that, Dick was back to being too tired to care. "Well you must be very disappointed, then."

"Huh? With what?"

He chuckled cynically. "With the fuck up your childhood hero turned out to be."

Jason frowned at him. "No... whoever said you were a fuck up?"

"They didn't need to." Another scoff helped knock out all the lumps in his throat. He really was too tired for this. "But it's pretty obvious. First person I let myself care about again gets tortured, manipulated, kidnapped by her own mother, threatened by her own father, and there was shit all I did to stop it. I just..." He took a breath and glanced pointedly out the driver window. "Look, I can give you a few pointers here and there, a few tips and tricks of the trade, but don't expect anything you won't figure out on your own. Just, don't expect miracles or anything, okay?"

Jason stared at him for a few seconds, his face unreadable. Finally, he huffed, sitting back and looking fixedly at the road before them. "Jesus, you really do hate yourself, huh?"

Dick swallowed and bowed his head. Not quite. He would have to care about himself, hell, he'd have to _like_ himself in order to hate himself. Hating yourself was a luxury people with consciences and personal investments had. And up until a few months ago, Dick didn't think he had either of those. If anything, Dick was indifferent to himself. If he starved, oh well. If he got hit over the head one too many times while out on the streets, so be it. If he died, he certainly wouldn't be bothered to write home. He didn't care about himself or who he was. Maybe that wasn't healthy - maybe that was _worse_ than straight-up hatred, but he had tried the hatred route, back when he first moved to Detroit, and pretending to give a damn long enough to annoy himself into hatred was just too exhausting. Why waste ammo when he could just waste away, alone and forgotten in his dingy little apartment and not leave a mess behind for the poor soul unlucky enough to stumble across his corpse.

God he would hate to come back as a ghost - if they even existed, which he doubted. But with his luck, god or the universe or whomever the fuck who was pulling the strings up there would make an exception for his miserable ass, just so he could float through the afterlife seeing firsthand just how few people his meaningless life would really be affected by his inconsequential death. He doubted it would take him long.

The music suddenly started blaring and Dick jumped, accidentally jerking them back onto the road.

"Hey!" he scolded, swatting clumsily at the dial and turning it way the hell back down. "Everyone's asleep!”

Jason gave him a pointed look. "Yeah. _Everyone_."

"I'm _fine_."

"Bull- _shit_."

"Look, you wanna listen to music, fine, just use your headphones. I know Gar is still out and I'm sure Rachel could use the sleep too."

"She's not the only one," Jason mumbled, slouching in the seat. Nevertheless, he dug out his phone and headphones, intent on zoning out. Dick didn't blame him. He knew he wasn't good company even on the best of days, but in the last hour he had already pissed off and insulted Jason more times than he had the spare energy to count. He would ignore him out too if given the chance. Hell, if the opportunity presented itself, he would have left himself back in that ramshackle house as the others went on their merry way. Without him here, Kori would be driving right now and she wouldn't have screwed up nearly as many times as he already had. She'd have everyone singing campfire tunes and making friendship bracelets and they were only a few hours in.

Dick sighed. "Jason." He glanced over, a cold shoulder and the muted tones of heavy rock greeting him. Damnit, kid. "Jason!" he tried again more insistently, finally earning a glance.

"The hell do you want?" the teen replied moodily.

Of course he wasn't going to make this easy. It was okay, though, Dick just needed to say the words and then Jason was free to ignore him for as long as he wanted. "I... I'm sorry. For snapping at you, I mean. I know you're only trying to help, and I appreciate it. I do. I just need something to do right now. Something to keep myself occupied. So, for now, that's driving."

"And what happens when you're done? You gonna find some other sidekick to brood at?"

"I'm really trying not to. Look, you can listen to your music and ignore me all you want, okay? And I mean it. Until we get to a store or food or something feel free to act like I don't even exist. Just..." He swallowed. "Just..."

"Yeah," Jason interrupted quietly. He took out one earbud, the music getting significantly louder. How had the kid not managed to lose his hearing yet? "Don't worry. I'll keep us on track."

"Thanks." Dick sighed again, this time in relief. Someone else was in charge, someone who wouldn't screw it up like he would. "I really--"

"Dude, you gotta stop saying that all the time."

A chuckled. "What? That I appreciate you?"

"Yes! You make it sound like we're, I don't know, _chums_ or something." The younger Robin let out a dramatized shiver, as if the very thought of them getting comfortable was revolting. Dick smirked. Definitely a theater nerd.

"Alright, alright. Fine. I just want everyone to feel included. And, yes, that includes you."

Jason frowned suddenly, sitting up. "Hey, I think you're going the wrong way."

Dick's senses shot up with concern. He frowned at the road, the signs, the position of the sun. No, he was pretty sure he hadn’t blacked out and magically hopped onto another road.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I think you need to go back to Gotham. The outside world has made you soft and squishy in your old age," Jason teased. He barely avoided the playful smack he got in retaliation. "Okay! Okay! I get it!"

Dick gave him a side-eyed smirk. "Better Robin, my ass."

An offended squawk came from the seat to his right. "Oh, screw you!" Jason shot back, but it was without bite.

They settled into silence again, save for Jason's muted music. The second earbud had been returned to his ear to deafen him further, so Dick drove in silence. He didn't totally lie when he said he needed to stay occupied. In all honesty, he needed to sleep, but just like coming down from any nightmare, he knew that wouldn't end well. Besides, driving at least made him productive, gave him a purpose to be here rather than a wallet, valid driver’s license, and the ability to check into a motel without getting kicked out or arrested. Still, though, try as he might his thoughts kept going back to what he had done, what he had seen, and, most importantly, what he had _not_ done.

He had flashes of consciousness from sometime between entering the house and Rachel waking him up. He vaguely remembered Gar on the ground, and then Gar smashed through a shelf of some sort. He saw Angela's body outside. He saw Donna and Jason and Kori and the others possessed, presumably just like he had been. His hand hurt like he had punched through a wall (or a wooden door maybe) and he could barely tell up from down much less reality versus what he lived through in his own head. Mostly, though, he remembered Rachel. Stalking her upstairs, following her through the house. He had the bad aftertaste of ill-begotten words and sweet nothings on his lips and he dared not ask what he had said to her and Gar during his time under.

Whatever it was, he knew it had been bad. He knew he had hurt the kids. Possessed or not, Bruce had taught him that that was no excuse. You were never really out of your own control, Bruce had said. You could simply make it easier to be manipulated and suggestable. That's all it was, though. Well-worded suggestions. True possession didn't exist. Just random chemicals firing off random synapses in your brain, making you potentially malleable to any no-good-doer. That's what Bruce had taught him and, despite the unexplainable phenomena he had just been through, he was still inclined to agree with the old man.

Which meant that everything he did - the words, the actions, it all - was his fault. He was the one to blame for hurting Rachel and for letting poor Gar get caught in the crossfire. His friends getting hurt and taken over - or whatever it was - fell on his shoulders because, well, he was goddamn Robin. It was his _job_ to keep people safe. To _defend_ his friends and loved ones. And he had failed so drastically the entire world almost burned and he almost lost some of the most important and remarkably special people he had ever met

He blinked. Jason's music was much louder than it had been. Stupid kid was going to ruin his ears more than fighting crime four nights a week ever could. A scolding on his lips, Dick looked right, only to find an earbud in his face, silently being offered by a young Robin who refused to look at him. Dick stared, confused, prompting Jason to look his way. He rolled his eyes.

"For the road, moron."

Oh. Right.

Dick almost cried. Almost. Instead, he nodded his thanks. The automatic reply of "I appreciate it" died half-formed on his lips at the teen's dark scowl. At a loss, Dick nodded again, taking the earbud. It settled comfortably in his ear, Jason shifting in his seat to allow more slack between them.

With clear access to what exactly he was blasting from that phone of his, Dick could admit he was impressed. The kid seemed to listen mainly to heavy metal covers of classic rock songs. Unlike most of the remakes that had turned Dick off to newer music, these were done with respect. He smirked, bobbing his head along to a well-made cover of one of his favorites. He glanced to the side, offering Jason an approving nod. Jason smirked back before settling back in his position that would undoubtedly lead to an aching, well, everything once they stopped to stretch for a moment.

Still, Dick let him be, focusing instead on the music and the open road before them. He and Jason hummed along to their mutual favorites, occasionally sharing inquisitive glances at the other for their opinion. He even let Dick DJ slightly with looks of dislike or approval tuning the selection to be a little more listener-friendly. It was good. Dare he say it was even a little fun. But most importantly, it got Dick out of his own damned head long enough to regroup to a semblance of his old self again. He knew it wouldn't last. He would have to face the nightmares eventually. But for now, in the middle of Ohio wilderness, he was content to listen to Jason's surprisingly good taste in music while his other two charges slept as peacefully as they could in the back.

For a moment, everything was fine. Not good, and certainly not great, but fine. And after what they had gone through, Dick would take a little fine any day.

Well, it _was_ fine. Until it wasn't.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Jason snapped awake as the car swerved and slammed to a stop, shoving him into the dash. "Ow, dude! What the hell!" he scolded, glaring at Dick who was scrambling to get out of the car, eyes trained on something in the rear-view.

"Something's wrong with Rachel!" Was all he gave as an explanation, throwing the door open and tossing himself out.

Jason sobered up instantly, turning in his seat to look back at the girl. She seemed to still be unconscious, though her small frame was levitating about half a foot off the seat, charged black magic swirling around her.

"Shit!" the younger Robin cursed, fingers grabbing for his seat belt. He unhooked it just as the back door flew open, Dick reaching inside and grabbing Rachel gently. He dragged her out, arms careful to support her head and injuries.

"Rachel! Rachel!" he called. Once freed from the vehicle, she dropped to the ground. He cradled her in his lap nervously, large hands urgently wiping sweaty strands of hair from her pale forehead. God her entire face was paler, a shade whiter than even her normal complexion. He heard the passenger door slam shut and looked up as Jason rounded the Jeep, eyes staring at him expectantly. Let it never be said a Robin stood idle.

"Uh, some water. Get her some water, from the back," Dick commanded in lieu of anything useful to say. Jason nodded and jerked the back window open. Dick could hear him talking to Gar inside, but he trusted his replacement could deal with a half-conscious beast boy for the moment. Rachel needed his attention to get her through... whatever the hell was happening to her.

"Rachel?" he asked again, shifting so he could look at her more head on. "You gotta wake up, okay? You're dreaming."

She stirred, moaning lightly deep in her throat. It wasn't a sound a pain or distress, but it still made Dick's heart seize with anxiety. "Rachel?"

"D...Dick?" she wondered, eyes fluttering open ever so slightly. Seeing that clear blue nearly took his breath away.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me. I got you," he soothed. Her power continued to revolve around her wildly, trails of smoke lapping hungrily at the air. "Rachel, uh, your powers... You need to try to calm--"

He was cut off by the raven girl screaming. A shockwave of power surged through her, slamming Jason into the side of the Jeep. The whole vehicle shook with the force, the trees around them shuddering against the blast. Dick, who was knocked halfway across the road, was the first to recover. He scrambled to his hands and knees, crawling back to Rachel.

"Rachel!" he coughed, trying to regain his breath. "Rachel, it's okay! Calm down!"

"I'm-- I'm sorry!" The girl looked at him with terror in her eyes.

Dick hacked sideways to clear his throat. He could hear moans from Jason which was good. The kid was still alive and awake. No major damage done then, hopefully. Looking up, he met with Jason's eyes, the younger Robin looking sizably ruffled and concerned.

"Check on Gar," Dick commanded steadily. As capable as the kid was, he wasn't doing Dick any good out here, vulnerable to whatever was coursing through their little girl. Besides, the blast into the vehicle might've jostled Gar's wounds and Dick definitely didn't need him any more injured than he already was.

Jason, for once, didn't argue. Nodding instead as he turned to climb inside the Jeep.

Good. Now all that was left was Rachel.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Dick began, noticing her eyes had started to glaze over. "Rachel, follow my voice. Come on, look at me." He grabbed her cheek in his palm, hoping some physical touch would ground her. Her eyes flashed to him and she shuddered at the sight.

"No!" Panicked, she scrambled backward, slamming into the tire of the Jeep. "Get-- get away!"

Dick went to follow her but froze at her command. Slowly, he breathed, raising his hands in an unthreatening manner. "Rachel, it's okay. It's Dick. You defeated your dad, remember? You're safe."

"You..." A war was waging in the child's eyes and it made Dick want to bring Trigon back just so he could kick his ass all over again. (Because he was so much help the first time.) "You're..." she looked away, hands covering her ears against his quiet reassurances.

Suddenly Jason was at his side. "Yeah, thought so," he was saying as he grabbed Dick by the shoulders, hoisting him to his feet. "Think you might want to sit this one out, dude."

"What?" Dick looked between the two. "No, Rachel she--"

"She's confused."

"Yeah, and--"

"About _you_. Maybe due to recent events?"

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"Yeah. Sorry, bud. Why don't you, uh, go wait in the car, alright? We'll deal with it," Jason continued, escorting Dick back to the Jeep. The older Robin watched in confusion as Gar stumbled out of the back, plopping himself next to the trembling girl.

"But--"

"Dude. Relax, alright. Think she needs to see someone who didn't just, you know, go total brain-o berserk on her, okay?" Jason tried for soothing as he practically shoved Dick in the driver’s seat, urgently wanting to get back to Rachel.

Dick blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sure," he muttered, unaware of what he was really saying. Rachel didn't trust him? He fell heavily into the seat, mind whirling with dangerous possibilities. What the _hell_ had he done to her? He thought they were cool, thought that she still trusted him. Apparently not, though, and he didn't really blame her. He wouldn't have either. Sighing, he slumped into the seat, shaking hand covering his eyes as he trembled.

Good god, how was he supposed to do this? How could he of all people be responsible for such remarkable kids? They needed someone to keep them safe, to train and nurture and love them. So far he had bailed way too many times, made all the wrong moves - Angela had been in the asylum for five years, how did he _possibly_ think she was even capable of living on her own, much less with _kids_?

He couldn't do this, as much as he wanted to. As willing as he was to put his life, his heart, his _everything_ on the line for these kids (yes, Jason included), that didn't mean he was any good at it. Even the best of intentions still needed to be balanced by the capacity to pull them off. Without the ability to act, they were just lofty ideals.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Jeep doors were swinging open, his crew climbing into their respective spots. Dick startled, wiping his eyes. He glanced away, avoiding eye contact as they piled in. His breathing was still coming in short puffs and he did his best to school it into normalcy.

"Sorry," Rachel muttered quietly. That got him checking her in the rear-view. She shied away, rubbing her arms and looking out the window.

"You okay?" He shouldn't ask. He shouldn't pry into her personal business. But he couldn't help it - he cared too much for his own damn good.

She nodded quietly, sniffing into her sleeve.

"Okay."

Beside him, Jason cleared his throat. "Cool. Who's hungry?" he glanced at Dick from his position twisted around to watch the rest of the vehicle. Two tentative hands raised. "Excellent." He flopped back around seemingly without a care in the world. "Well you heard 'em, chauffeur. Find us some grub and find it fast or yours will be the first body on the cannibal pile."

Gar snorted from the back, and Rachel made a disgusted sound.

"Gross."

Jason turned to scold her. "Hey, Robin is a fine delicacy in some parts. Don't knock it till you try it."

Gar moaned loudly. "Oh my _god_! Is anything else thinking about dicks, right now?"

Rachel laughed at him.

"What? Come on, it can't just be me! You all heard what he said, right?"

Jason gave him a look, turning back in his chair. "So gross, dude."

"Oh, come on!"

Allowing himself a chuckle, Dick pulled back onto the road. "No one is eating anyone,” he reassured, silencing the car. "Sorry, Gar."

The boy squawked in outrage.

"You see that?" He nodded to a passing sign. "Food's just a few more miles out. Think you wild animals can wait that long?"

A collection of exasperated and overdramatic groans filled the car.

Dick chuckled at them. "Hey, if you don't find anything you like..." He nodded to the side. "I hear Robin is a delicacy."

"What! Hey!"

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Food gave Dick some much-needed energy until it settled like a grease pit in his stomach and suddenly staying awake was much harder than it had been before. Luckily, it had the reverse effects on the rest of the troop, who, for some reason, had dissolved into loud karaoke. It gave him something to listen to, to enjoy. He didn't feel much like singing, though, as the night progressed and darkness covered the land. They had survived and defeated interdimensional Satan. They had earned a celebration. But they had also lost so much in the process. Rachel, both her parents. Gar, his innocence. Kori, the family she had made and her tentative grip on her personality. Even Donna lost her Jeep, perfectly happy to part ways with it.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Eventually, they found a motel to crash at for who-knew-how-long and, after Dick purchased them two rooms, split apart for what he really hoped was going to be a quiet evening. A day of driving, a night of being possessed, all preceded by several days full of anguish and worry had him about tapped out. As concerned as he was for the kids to be left unsupervised, he really could use a couple of hours of shut-eye.

Rachel was in her room, accompanied by Gar and Jason, no doubt watching taking advantage of the free cable to gawk at a cheesy, violence-filled movie. As Dick drifted, bags of antiseptic and bandages disposed of on the other bed, he let his mind wander, content to drift into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

There was something important he had to do with that bag.

The kids were in the other room, talking or watching YouTube or whatever kids did to pass the time (god he _was_ getting old). Rachel would probably be too high strung to pass out any time soon - still quaking with leftover adrenaline. Jason, bless him, had apparently elected himself the de facto leader of their little trio. Not that there were any complaints from Gar, who was more than happy to let The Boy Wonder--

Gar.

 _Shit_.

"Shit!" Dick sprang from the bed fast enough to leave himself light-headed as he snatched the medical supplies and stumbled to the door. He swung it open and almost ran over the beast boy in question, who looked at him sheepishly, bruised knuckles raised to rap lightly on the wood.

"Gar."

"Dick? Can I, um..."

Dick snapped back to reality. "Yeah. Yeah, come in." Gar grinned and bowed his head as he entered. Dick kicked himself mentally. How could he be so stupid? Gar had gotten the shit kicked out of him not but a few hours ago and here Dick was, the boy's supposed protector, letting him waltz around untreated and uncared for.

Gar stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. "I, uh, was getting kind of tired but Jason said I should probably clean up before passing out. Something about, um…" He made a vague gesture with his hands, "...getting stiff if I don't wash it off now."

"He's right," Dick sighed, moving toward the bed. "Shit, Gar, I'm sorry. I should've helped you with this hours ago."

The boy laughed nervously. "Hey, no problem, man. You were kind of busy."

"Jason could've driven. I should've..." He gestured to the pile of medical supplies.

"No, not with driving. I mean..." When he paused, Dick eyed him curiously, unsure of where he was going with this. "Eh, nothing, forget it," the kid chuckled, apparently abandoning his thought process altogether. Dick wasn't sure if he had lost his sense or courage but decided not to press.

"Right. Can you sit? Here's fine," Dick instructed gently, shoving some of the bandages to the side. Gar eased himself down and damnit why didn't Dick see this earlier? Gar wasn't exactly trying to be subtle with his movements.

Stifling down those thoughts for now, Dick swallowed and busied himself snapping on some latex gloves.

"You aren't allergic, are you?"

"To plastic? No."

He shrugged. "It's actually latex but... Okay." Taking a moment, he slowly inhaled, trying to calm his nerves. He screwed up, sure, that much was obvious, but now wasn't the time for berating himself. Now was the time for calming down and focusing on patching up a kid who sorely needed it.

Gar glanced at him curiously. Dick gave him a tight-lipped smile before lowering himself onto the floor. He sat flat on his ass, elbows on his crossed legs. He was lower than Gar and made himself look as vulnerable as possible.

"So," he began quietly. "Where does it hurt?"

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Gar sniffed, wiping at his nose and glancing around for any last chance escape. "Um, here," he started, pointing to the sizable bruise on his chin. Dick inspected it casually. They had done a good job of cleaning the blood off the boy's face before they stopped for food, though he ultimately had opted to wait in the car. Should have been Dick's, like, tenth clue that he wasn't doing as well as he put on. First would've been that he would willingly trade shotgun (or the chance to sit next to Rachel) for the trunk so he could stretch out and relax.

Dick nodded, silently urging him to go on. Gar sighed shakily. "And, uh, here too, I guess." Slowly, he pulled the hem of his shirt up. Dick leaned in to get a closer look, but quickly realized he needn't bother; he could see the bruises splayed across his kid's chest from space.

"Holy shit," he breathed, eyebrows lowering in concern. It was a wonder the boy could even be sitting upright much less goofing off to karaoke. "Who... who did this?"

At that Gar's green eyes quickly diverted and Dick kicked himself again. It was a stupid question, obviously, but he needed to know.

"Gar, please. Those didn't just come from one person and not all at once, either. You have to tell me."

The boy swallowed, looking tiny even though he was towering above Dick. It broke the man's heart, but he quickly relented.

"Alright. I'll drop it for now, okay?"

Gar nodded, relieved. He shot Dick an appreciative glance that had the former Robin sighing. Damn these kids, doing their darndest to warm his cold, dead heart.

"Let's just focus on getting you patched up, yeah?"

That earned him a real smile. "Sounds good."

"Great. Go ahead and take your jacket and shirt off." He glanced at the boy's knees. "Do you have any injuries anywhere else? Anything else you want me to look at?" Miraculously, the kid considered it. Maybe Dick Grayson wasn't a total screw up after all.

Gar swallowed as he peeled off his top. "Uh, yeah, I think, actually." Dick nodded again, urging him to elaborate. "My, um... I think they kicked me in..." He gestured vaguely behind him.

Dick's eyebrows raised critically. "In the ass?" he supplied.

A tense chuckle. "Uh, yeah. Really all over the backs of my legs."

Dick considered it, then shrugged. He'd seen worse. Looking up, he gave Gar a confident smirk.

"Shouldn't be a problem to take care of. Thanks for telling me."

Gar nodded, put at ease by Dick's nonchalance. He wasn't a boy to go asking for things - hence his penchant for small-time robbery - so asking Dick to look at something so potentially embarrassing, and him so easily agreeing to do it, did worlds of good for his stress levels.

Dick slapped his knees, standing. "Let's start with your chest. Then you can be laying on your stomach while I look at the rest. Might be a little more comfortable."

"Sounds good.”

"Great." He grabbed a bottle of cleaner and some pads. "Go ahead and scoot over this way," he instructed, motioning to where he wanted Gar to move. Gar complied readily. Dick had him straddling the corner of the bed, knees widespread and hands on the mattress. It was a little awkward, but it did take significant pressure off the multitude of wounds on his legs, for which he was grateful.

"I got to warn you, this is gonna sting. It shouldn't be too bad, though. Looks like you didn't tear through any skin, which makes cleaning and bandaging pretty straight forward." He paused and looked into Gar's eyes, waiting for his consent to continue.

The boy nodded, frowning at him curiously. "And?"

"Your ribs look pretty fucked, at least on this side." Dick's large hand hovered softly to Gar's right. "Can't tell how bad, yet, but I can tell you testing them is gonna suck."

Gar breathed out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, is that so?"

"Royally," Dick smirked back. There was no humor in his large eyes, though, only sympathy and pain. Gar remembered that Dick had had a life before he came into it, one that involved capes, masks, and he was sure a fair amount of broken or bruised ribs. He made be a lot of things, but he wasn't one to sugarcoat the truth. If Dick said it was going to suck, then it was going to suck. Anything more than that, though, Gar was confident he would be sufficiently warned.

"Okay. Yeah. Okay, let's do it." He sniffed again, shifting in place as if he was expecting Dick to punch him right in his sternum.

After a second, the older Robin snorted, dropping his face behind his hand as he laughed at the boy. Gar deflated, confused.

"What?"

"You can relax, tough guy," Dick chuckled. He dropped his hand and for a second Gar got lost in the mirth and affection in those brown eyes. "I'll warn you before I'm gonna check them, okay? And, piece of advice, it'll hurt a lot less if you relax and stop squirming."

Gar deflated again, this time on purpose. "Oh, really?"

Dick dipped the cotton in the solution. "Oh, really.”

"Oh thank god," Gar sigh, practically going limp.

They got to work silently after that, Gar obediently following every one of Dick's quiet instructions. He lifted his arms when told, held his breath upon command, and thanks to Dick's gentle guidance, even checking his ribs (which were only bruised, not broken) went surprisingly well. It still hurt like hell, but he was sure it would've been far less pleasant had it been anyone else.

At long last, a freshly cleaned and bandaged Gar was lying flat on his stomach, pants discarded somewhere within easy reach. He was fully naked, though Dick had taken the liberty of draping a clean towel across his exposed cheeks to preserve his dignity. (It was the little things, really.) Dick had him scoot into the middle of the bed and lay down so he could be flat with only his feet hanging off. He was so relaxed even the stale motel comforter under him seemed inviting, and the expert work done on his chest and back only served to relax him further. He had forgotten what feeling good felt like in the last day, his existence either internal bleeding or pain. Or both.

Behind him, Dick cleared his throat quietly. "Gar, you don't need to tell me right now who did this. And I promise I'll stop harping on it. But it's like I told Jason earlier; you're part of the team now. The family. And I want to make sure you're safe. And that means knowing who did this so I can keep it from happening again."

Gar waved him off, muttering something into the bedspread.

"Sorry?" Dick asked, applying another pad of gauze to a particularly colorful bruise. Must have been from a pointed toe shoe.

The boy turned his head and replied louder: "I said you don't have to worry about it. You were, like, mind-controlled or something." A line of tape suddenly snapped against his thigh. "Ow!" he hissed, scrambling onto his side to glare at the offender. But Dick didn't look at him. Dick wasn't really looking at anything, his eyes miles away. A look of horror slowly stretched across his features.

Gar frowned at him, concerned. "Dick? You okay?"

"Oh god," Dick breathed. His chest heaved like his body was trying to throw up, his skin paler than a ghost. "Oh _god_."

"Hey," Gar soothed, climbing toward him on the bed. "Hey, relax. It's okay, man. Like I said you were being mind-controlled by Trigon. I know it wasn't you."

Dick gaped for air, head slowly lowering. "Go."

"What?"

"You're done. Go lie down in the other room. It's about time you all went to bed anyway. Been... been a long day." The words were all there, but there was little life behind them, as if Dick was simply breathing out some well-memorized speech.

Still, Gar wasn't one to disobey orders (some of the time) and he had no idea how to help anyway. Clearly, he had upset the former Robin a great deal, but he was only good at soothing Rachel. He hadn't a clue how to help a grown man, much less their leader.

"Right. Sorry," he finally said sheepishly. Slipping off the bed, he grabbed his clothes, shrugging on his underwear and jacket. He didn't bother with pants, he was just going next door. "I'll, uh, send Jason in, I guess."

Dick nodded, though he was pretty sure he didn't hear him. "Thanks."

"Uh-huh. Uh, goodnight, then."

And with that Gar was slipping out of the room like it was on fire. The cold night air hit him like a truck, instantly cooling all the leftover gel on his skin, but he hardly felt it. He knocked twice on the other door, Jason letting him in quickly.

"Sup, dude. Took you long enough..." he began but trailed off in confusion as Gar shoved his way in, looking like he'd seen a ghost. Immediately, Jason's senses were on high alert. "What happened?" he asked, locking the door and hot on Gar's tail. Rachel was asleep on one of the beds, the TV casting the room into a hazy static buzz.

"I don't know, I think I messed up, man," Gar was explaining.

"What’d you do?"

"We were just talking, I swear, and Dick asked who beat me up and said he wanted to protect me from them or something. And I, just, I said he didn’t have to worry about it because he wasn't being mind-controlled anymore and--"

"Whoa," Jason interrupted, one hand raised. "You saying Dick did _that_ to you? Back in the house?"

Gar paused, shrugging after a moment as he yanked his shirt on. "Well, technically it was all of you, but, yeah.

Jason took four steps back mentally. "Wait. All of us? As in..."

"You, Kori, Wonder Girl, those other two, yeah. Trigon wanted me dead so he made all of you... you know."

Suddenly weak at the knees, Jason fell onto the bed next to him. "Holy shit."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Well, what I would've said if I had had a minute to catch my breath."

Jason blinked. "Then what?"

"Well after that Trigon snapped and..." He looked over at Rachel's peaceful form, sleeping deeply on the other bed. "You all went outside."

Jason followed his eyes. It was obvious he was omitting something, but Rachel did have a huge hole in her shirt and a jewel in the middle of her forehead that wasn't there before. And two plus two equals something very much not good so she would have to share whenever she was ready.

"Okay, sure. But what about Dick?" he continued, getting back on track. "You said we all, you know, but you didn't say how that related back to Dick."

Gar sighed, licking his lips and turning away. "Well, I don't really know what happened, exactly. One minute Rachel was talking to him and the next he, uh, kinda picked me up and just sorta..." He mimed unhelpfully. "Threw me into a cabinet or something, I don't know what it was. Def wanted to kill me, though, that's for sure."

He could feel Jason's eyes on him, searching desperately for the lie. It made Gar blush green freckles.

"Look, I don't want to believe it either. But, it happened, man. And, look, I know all about possession and mind-control and all of that, okay? I know it wasn't you all doing that. You were being controlled, it wasn't the real you, yadda yadda. I get it. And, really, I'm not even mad."

Jason huffed, standing to leave.

"I'm _not_ , okay?" Gar insisted. "People do stupid things when they lose it. I get it."

Jason took a few calming breaths, finally turning to look at him skeptically. "And you aren't mad?"

Gar crossed his heart, shaking his head. "Not even a little. I swear."

A war went across Jason's features and Gar couldn't tell which side was winning until the younger Robin sighed, his body deflating with released tension. He chuckled sardonically.

"That's fucked up, man."

Gar mirrored it sadly. "Tell me about it." He paused, looking questionably at Jason. "So I guess that means you don't remember it, then?"

The teen shook his head. "Nah, not really. I remember walking through this weird-ass... light portal or something with everyone else. Then suddenly I was in the Batcave and Dick was there, standing over..."

Gar's pointed eyebrows rose expectantly. "Over? Over what?"

Jason shook his head, wiping a sweaty palm across his face. "Forget it. It doesn't matter. Trigon showed me some messed up stuff, alright? And I'm guessing he did the same to everyone else. Like he wanted us to embrace the darkness within or some other emo bullshit."

A long pause. Finally, Gar looked up at him. "Did you?"

"What?"

He shrugged. "Embrace the darkness or whatever."

"Well it's not like I had a choice! The Cave - it was destroyed! And Dick, he... he..."

Gar chuckled. "What'd you do? Kill him or something?"

Jason's glare sobered him right up.

" _Holy shit_!"

"Shut up."

"But... dude! The hell? What did Dick ever do to you?"

"It's none of your goddamn business, is what!" Jason bit back, pointing a finger in the boy's face. "It was _my_ dream, _my_ nightmare! So I suggest you drop it before I drop you and undo all those pretty little bandages."

Gar leaned back, hands raised. "Alright, dude, alright. I'll drop it."

"Good," Jason huffed. He fidgeted in place, looking like his feathers had been thoroughly ruffled. He needed an out, something to do, something to take his aggression out on.

Quietly, Gar cleared his throat. "So, um, Dick said something about heading to bed when I left. Told him I'd send you back once I got here."

Jason looked at him like he had just sprouted pointy ears, green skin, and fangs - or something else just as bizarre and terrifying. "And you just _left_ him?! After telling him _he_ was the one who drop-kicked you into the fine China?"

The boy shrugged. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Holy shit, maybe _start_ with that next time!" Jason scolded, grabbing his leather coat from the foot of Rachel's bed and storming out. If the door slammed a little too loudly behind him, he wasn't sorry.


	2. Gotham's Golden Boy

"Dick!" Jason shouted, banging on their door. "Dick, it's me! Open the goddamn door!"

Silence.

"I'm not kidding, Dick! If you don't open this door in four seconds I am going to kick it down and charging the damages to your card!"

A drunk couple was staring at him.

"The fuck do you want?"

They scoffed, turning and stumbling off to who-even-cared-where.

"Yeah, fuck you, man!" one of them shouted, waving him off.

"Oh yeah? I'm from _Gotham_. Try me, bitches!" Jason hollered back. Huffing, he turned back to the door. "Dick, I swear to god--"

It suddenly flung open, Dick's tall frame eating up the entire doorway. "Jason, the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed, eyes burning with a parental scolding. Jason didn't give two shits as he shouldered his way into the room. "Hey!" Dick called after him. "Hey! Answer me!"

Jason ignored him, inspecting the room. It was immaculate, totally untouched save for a pile of bandage wrappers in the trash. The bathroom mirror was fogged and Jason could see steam on the cheap tile. Someone had just taken a shower and a hot one at that. Pivoting, he about-faced directly into Dick, who was staring at him skeptically. Dick's usually somber face held a disapproving scowl (easily ignored by the younger Robin thanks to years of practice). His hair was barely towel-dried and a right mess. Almost as if his grooming session had been loudly interrupted. Again, Jason didn't care. What he did care about was the red rims and blown pupils hiding in that worried gaze.

Hah. From angry to worried in, what, seven seconds? Must be a new record.

"You really are getting soft."

Dick straightened, offended. "Excuse me?" he scoffed.

"Nothing. Just go to bed." Jason turned back, making his way to the bathroom. "Or do you want to cry in the shower some more?"

Dick blinked, wiping desperately at his eyes as if they could start leaking at any moment. "No, hey, wait a minute!" he hollered, marching after the younger Robin. He cornered him in the bathroom, blocking the doorway as Jason rummaged for his toothbrush. "You don't get to just wake up the whole hotel and then walk away like you did nothing."

"Motel."

"What?"

Jason sighed. "It's a _motel_ , Dick. A dirty ass motel in the middle of who-gives-a-shit nowhere. And now, thanks to you, I, and everyone else, have to sleep in gross, cheap mattresses for a night, maybe two, after being cooped up in a car all day."

Dick shifted, arms crossed. "Hey, I have to stay here too, don't forget. I am right there with you all."

"Oh, just like you were right there, yucking it up with Rachel as we beat the shit out of Gar?"

The look that crossed Dick's face, crumbling his stoic features, almost made Jason regret his words. Almost.

"What are you...?"

"Yeah, that's right. You heard me." He shoved the toothbrush in his mouth. "Oh, by the way, caught a glimpse of your handiwork all over Gar's chest earlier. I just got one question, though..." He spat the foam into the sink, watching Dick in the mirror. "What did that cabinet ever do to you?"

Dick paled visibly, his skin going near white under the harsh fluorescent. "I don't..."

"Yeah, of course, you don’t. Well let me tell you, whatever it was it must've been something pretty hellacious because, from what I heard, you totally _wrecked_ it with Gar's body. Of course, you did so by picking him and launch him like a sack of potatoes, but, honestly, I don't really blame you, you know? Annoying little shit. Got what he deserved, if you ask me, for stopping our plans."

Dick's eyes flashed up to his. The ones that stared back at him were pure black, churning with an evil that leaked onto his face, cracking the delicate skin.

"Jason?" he gasped, stumbling backward.

"It's too bad Dad didn't have me do the dirty work instead," Jason continued. He stalked out of the bathroom, forcing Dick backward. The older Robin tripped over a discarded shoe and fell, half catching himself against the bed. "Because if he had asked me, the little monster would be dead, broken, and discarded, just like he deserved!"

"No..." Dick gasped, scrambling against the bedspread for purchase. "Jason, no, this isn't you."

"Just like we all deserve, huh? To be broken and torn apart for the glory of dear old dad?" Slowly, Jason lifted his palms, head titled back as if praising the sky. "Well, no, I guess not all of us. Silly me. You couldn't even manage a stupid little boy. You failed, Grayson!" Dropping his head, he glared at Dick, his voice taking on a multitude as he yelled. "Just like you always do! You are a _failure_! A worthless, pathetic failure!"

Trapped against the bed, Dick slapped his hands over his ears. "No!" he yelled, trying to block out the voices shrieking at him. "No, I'm not!"

"You are! I know it! Gar knows it! Hell, even Rachel knows it! Why else do you think she can't stand the sight of you? Because you failed her! You scared Kori off, Donna certainly doesn't want to be friends with you anymore! Even _Bruce_ , dear old dad Bruce Wayne doesn't want a thing to do with you!"

"No! You're wrong!"

"I'm not and you know it. And once you fail to keep these kids safe, everyone in the world will know it too! They'll die, Dick! _THEY'LL DIE AND IT'LL ALL BE YOUR FAULT_!" Jason shrieked. Suddenly he was charging forward, the black mist eating away at his body until nothing remained but the cloud of darkness, barreling towards Dick.

"No!" he screamed, blocking his face with his arms. "It's not-- I'm not...!" He flailed and scrambled uselessly against the barrage of black, nipping at him like birds, tearing into his skin and clothes. "No, please!"

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Dick lurched up suddenly, sweaty and panting. His whole body spasmed uncontrollably and he gaped like a fish, unable to draw in even a little air. Darkness. He was still in the darkness. It had won. Trigon was back and he was coming after Rachel.

"Rachel..." he choked, falling off the bed in his haste. He kicked at the sheets. Why weren't they letting him go? He needed to escape, to get back to Rachel. He needed to make sure she was alright. After several moments of struggling, he collapsed with a long keening sound. He lay there, panting, all his strength gone. God, he was so tired. He just wanted to sleep but why couldn't he get Rachel? She needed him, he knew it, and yet here he was, tangled up in his own bedsheets, unable to move much less save the world.

His head fell back onto the floor and he lay there, slowly regaining his breath. His sanity seemed to come back with it. Slowly, inch by inch, he began to recognize his surroundings. The smell of cheap bedspreads, piss, and antibiotics. Traffic outside, the occasional headlight illuminating the room in a lazy flash of white. His room. The hotel. _Motel_. He was back in the motel. He looked at the clock. 11:45 PM. At night. Well, that explained the darkness.

Taking control of his lungs, he breathed in a deep breath, holding it for a long second, then slowly exhaling.

Trigon wasn't back. Rachel wasn't in danger. Jason wasn't possessed. They were fine, safe, and apparently all still next door, probably up late watching crappy movies.

Didn't he tell them to go to bed? He definitely remembered something about telling them to go to bed.

With a sigh, Dick climbed to his feet. Kicking off his sheets wasn't nearly as difficult once he wasn't flailing at them in a blind panic. He glanced at the clock again. 11:51 PM. Well, looks like it was gonna be a sleepless night. Exactly what he was expecting.

Grabbing his jacket from wherever it had landed, he pocketed the room keys and slipped out, carefully locking it behind him. He crossed to the other room and rapped gently on the door. After a moment of waiting in the cold, Jason creaked the door open, blinking at him tiredly.

"Dick?" he asked. "What, what's the problem?"

Dick glanced over the teen's head and was relieved to see Gar and Rachel, safe and sound in their beds, looking dead to the world (in the peaceful, sleeping sense).

He blinked back to reality. "No. I mean, nothing. Nothing's wrong. Hey, I'm, uh, I'm just gonna go for a walk. Check the perimeter, you know?"

Jason nodded. Bless him, the teen was trying his damnedest to stay awake and Dick could tell it was a losing battle.

"You're in charge until I get back. Shouldn't be long. You gonna stay in here for the night?"

The younger Robin considered it, stealing a glance inside. "Might as well at this point."

"Okay, cool. I'm glad. Just, uh... here," Dick handed him the spare key. "Just in case, you know."

"Sure."

"Well, I'll let you get back to it. Try not to stay up too late," he finished with a tight smile. Already the cold was starting to bite through his jacket. He was sure Jason was beginning to feel it too. He took a few steps back, waving the teen goodnight. "Okay, night then. See you in the morning."

Jason nodded, already closing the door. "See yah."

It closed with a quiet click, and Dick waited around just long enough to hear the lock slide into place. And then another moment for the back-up.

Satisfied, he turned, picked a direction, and started walking. No clue where he was going, no plan on how long he was going to be gone. All he had was his jacket, a key that burned a hole in his pocket, and demons nipping at every corner of his mind.

Oh yeah. It was going to be a long night.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

The Titans awoke the next morning to Dick rapping on the door. Jason grunted and rolled out of bed, trudging to it sleepily. Rachel moaned, flopping over to look at the clock. Apparently, the next _afternoon_ would be more accurate, as it was nearly 11 AM.

"Morning," Dick greeted, one cardboard tray of steaming coffee cups balanced on a box of donuts in one hand while the other gripped a large bag of bagels.

"Thanks," Jason croaked as he was handed a cup of joe, taking the whole tray with him. Dick nodded as he deposited his load onto the small table. The younger Robin slurped at the dark brew, yawning and wiping sleep from his eyes.

Rachel glared at the scene from under her covers.

"Not a morning person?" Dick asked good-naturedly, flashing her an understanding smile.

Jason glanced that direction, answering for her. "Up half the night with dreams and shit," he supplied, taking another large gulp.

Rachel's glare would have leveled a lesser man. "Traitor," she muttered. Jason shrugged, challenging her to come at him.

Dick chuckled at their antics - already siblings through and through - and looked up from his spread of bagels. "Where's Gar?"

Two teens pointed to the bathroom just as the third walked out, towel drying his hair. He froze, noticing everyone was looking at him. "What?" he worried, hand instinctively checking the towel around his waist.

Dick broke the silence first. "Good timing," he answered. He held up a plate. "Bagel or donut? They're vegan.”

"Wait, really? They have those?" Gar's eyes lit up and he tossed the towel aside, rushing to inspect the food.

"Aw, dude!”

"So gross," Rachel complained. The girl finally threw her covers off, shuffling her way to the bathroom.

Dick handed Jason a donut. "You can freshen up in our room once you're done."

The teen nodded, taking the sweet treat. "You already done, then?"

"Yeah, I've been up for a while now," Dick sighed. He smacked Gar's hand away from the extra cups.

"You're a little young for coffee, don't you think?"

"No! ...maybe. How old do you have to be to drink coffee?"

Jason laughed into his drink, Dick shaking his head fondly.

"Older than you."

Gar stammered at him. "Well then how come he gets some?" he wondered, pointing at Jason.

“Because I’m older than you, dipshit.”

Dick made a face. “Well, physically, at least. And he was in charge last night. This is his reward for being responsible."

Gar chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh yeah? And what's next? A weekly allowance? A chore chart?"

Dick made a show of considering it.

"No! No, I'm kidding! That was a joke!" Gar barked at him. "Uh, thanks for the bagel," he added, then gathered his things and scurried off.

The Robins watched him flick on the TV as he ate, Dick catching Jason's eye. "Talk outside?"

"Whatever," the younger Robin shrugged, following him out.

Even almost into the afternoon, the air was nippy enough for Jason to hug his coffee closer, drinking in the smell and warmth it provided. "Black. Two creams. Three sugars. How'd you know?"

Dick smirked cryptically, finally taking a sip of his own brew. He scowled at it. Why’d they have to cool so quickly?

"A detective never reveals his sources."

"Alfred."

"What? No. That line is more emergencies only."

Jason mulled it over for a minute. "Hmmm. Barbara, then."

"Why would Barbara know how you take your coffee?"

"Good point. Okay, how about--"

"Jason. You had a receipt in your pocket."

"Oh." A pause. "You went through my shit?"

Dick looked to the heavens as if hoping for some divine strength. "Oh my god, Jason. Just... you're welcome for the coffee."

"Yeah," the younger Robin chuckled. "And you're welcome for holding down the fort for you all night."

Dick sighed into his cup. "Yeah. Sorry about that. Just..." He motioned to his head. "Needed to clear out some stuff."

Jason, bless him, merely nodded in understanding. Dick hoped he was just being empathetic and didn't actually understand what he had meant, but then remembered they both hailed from Gotham of all places. Jason was probably one of the people who understood exactly what he meant.

"Say, uh, did Gar mention anything to you last night?"

"Yeah, we talked about shit." Jason eyed him critically. "Anything, in particular, keep you up?"

"Actually..." He paused to take a breath. "He mentioned where he got those bruises from. Said something about me - well, all of us, I guess – giving him them while under Trigon's influence."

" _'Influence.'_ That's a funny way of saying _'totally batshit mind-controlled.'_ But yeah, he told me the same thing. Though," He pointed. "He also had some very interesting things to say about _your_ role in that particular string of events specifically."

"Oh god," Dick sighed. Jason could hear the weariness in his voice as if he had said exactly what Dick was afraid of hearing. Oh well. He was the one who had dragged him out into the cold to talk about this first thing in the afternoon.

"Nah, pretty sure god didn't have anything to do with what you did to him while under."

Dick's head was bowed, refusing to look anywhere other than his scuffed boots on the pavement. "How bad?"

Jason considered his answer. Dick might've asked for the truth, but that didn't mean Jason couldn't be at least a little delicate about it. "All things considered, not as bad as it could've been. Roughed him up pretty good, but so did the rest of us, apparently. Sounded like he was pretty out of it by that point, to be honest."

Dick was quiet for a long moment, contemplating what he had been told. He could deal with 'not as bad as it could've been.' Of course, he didn't really know Jason's scale of 'no problem' to 'totally and completely screwed’ but it was a start. "Okay. Thanks."

"Hey, anytime you want someone to throw some kindling on that raging barn fire that is your conscience, you let me know."

Dick chuckled at him. "Very funny."

Jason shrugged him off. He turned to head back inside. "You really wanna know what happened, I'd ask Rachel. She was the only one conscious the whole time."

Dick dismissed the advice immediately but waved his thanks all the same. "I'll keep that in mind."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

A little while later, after the kids had cleaned up enough to look presentable - albeit those standards clearly changed according to who was judging - they were sitting in a booth in some local diner trying to figure out their next move.

"Really we have three options," Dick began. The kids slurped on a variety of teas and smoothies, their appetites apparently insatiable. "One, we stay here for a few more days. We only have the rooms until this evening, but I can extend our stay no problem. That way we can focus on resting and recovering, maybe getting to know each other a little bit."

Jason's attention shot up. "Oh! Oh! I know some _great_ name games! All the kindergarteners play them!" he teased, the other two chuckling at his sarcasm.

Dick had enough sense to know when he was licked. "Alright. Poorly worded, I admit, but you get what I'm saying."

The younger Robin conceded, his point having been made.

"I mean, I don't think that's a totally terrible idea." The table turned to Gar. He shrugged. "I used to play a lot of games with the guys back home. Board games and stuff. Was actually a lot of fun."

Dick nodded. "That's really good to know for the future, Gar. Thanks."

Jason slurped loudly as if that would get them back on track. For some reason, it worked.

"Right. Second option; we go somewhere else. I have a few destinations close by we could check out, but nothing concrete. Just what I could gather from some quick Google Mapping. They won't be that far out of the way, but it does mean more time stuck in Donna's Jeep. I thought a day or so to stretch our legs would do us some good. But if you want to move on, I get that too."

Jason leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. "Google Maps tell you where the closest arcade is? Maybe a decent amusement park? You know, something that's not been permanently invaded by old people?"

Dick laughed at him. Once. “I hate to break it to you, but that's small-town culture, Jason. Not a lot going on. And always a lot of old people.”

"Does this place even have a theater?" Gar wondered.

Rachel snorted at him. "As if there's anything good out."

"Hey! I think the new Bond looks pretty interesting."

The goth girl gawked at him. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What?"

"Um, hello? Damsels in distress? Killing everyone on sight? That doesn't bother you?"

The beast boy shrugged. "He's got a cool car," he added sheepishly.

"That he does," Jason supported. "Always got the dopest tech in those movies too. A bit over the top, though. Now if you want to see some _really_ kick-ass tech, you gotta watch--"

"Can we focus?" Dick interrupted. The kids settled. "Besides, Rache is right." The girl's attention flashed up to him like he had just been set on fire. "Not that that’s the point. To answer your question, I'm pretty sure there’s a local theater in the square." He pointed to Jason. "To answer _your_ question, I didn't filter by local attractions, but do some research tonight and we can start to narrow down the search results." The younger Robin sat back, pleased. "Now, that was option two. Option three is we go straight to San Francisco."

Confusion swept across the table.

"As in _California_?"

"What? Why?"

"San Fran? Why San Fran?" Jason asked, certainly the best traveled of the three kids. Dick wasn't sure if the boy had even been to the West coast himself, but his tone certainly made it sound like he had. And that he hadn't been impressed.

Dick looked at the leftover coffee in his mug as they spouted questions and comments at him. No doubt the dark brew was cooled by now. That was twice these kids had ruined his perfectly good cup of joe. "There's an old safe house there we should be able to take over. Thought it might be a nice place for a home base of sorts."

Gar's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "You mean, like a secret lair? Near the ocean?”

Dick chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Probably not the word I would use, but, sure. A secret lair. And yes, practically on the shore. It’s just a place where we can camp out, train, and work out our next, more permanent moves."

"Huh." Gar flopped back, eyes sparkling in consideration. "I changed my mind. I want to go there _now_. Where is it, again? How close to the water did you say? Aw who cares!" He threw his head back, arms shooting into the air as if he was on a rollercoaster. "We're getting an oceanside secret lair!"

"Shhh!" Dick quieted, though thanks to his chuckles it came out sounding more like a hissing snake than anything else. "Keep it down."

"Oh," the boy realized, quickly dropping his arms.

Jason got a smirk and straightened, turning to address the diner.

Oh god no.

"It's all good, everybody. We're good. Weird name for a brother-in-law, I know but..." He shrugged, grabbing Rachel's hand and squeezing it affectionately. "What can I say? She said yes! And an oceanfront wedding to boot. How lucky am I?”

The diner clapped awkwardly, collectively wondering if they looked a little young to be married but too polite to say anything.

Rachel snatched her hand back.

Dick lowered his face into his palm.

Jason waved them off, dropping back down with a satisfied smirk on his face. Dick eyed him, feeling like he'd just aged ten years. God, was he ever this bad to Bruce? Remind him to send an apology with his next Father's Day card.

"Happy?"

"I am!" Gar squealed, bouncing excitedly. He had never been to the ocean before. It was like a dream of his, to step foot in both major oceans of the U.S. Nothing would make him feel freer than that, he didn’t think.

"We know!" the other three scolded.

Dick wiped his face. He needed, like, seven more cups of coffee. At a minimum. "Alright, look. Those are our three options. We hang out here for a few more days, we hit the road - _maybe_ an attraction or two along the way - or we head straight out to San Fran."

"San Fran!" Gar demanded, shouting over Jason's enthusiastic "Disneyland!" and Rachel's nonchalant "Doesn't matter to me."

You know what? Screw the coffee. Instead, he needed four of the thickest, beefiest self-help books he could find. One to knock each kid across the head with and a spare to bludgeon himself unconscious.

"Well, we have to decide something. The good news is we have all the time in the world to figure it out."

"I want to go to Disneyland," Jason repeated unhelpfully.

Gar scoffed at him. "Dude, doesn't your dad own, like, three amusement parks? You can go there whenever you want. I want to see our new home base! Besides, isn’t Disneyland in Florida?"

"That's Disney _world_ ," Dick sighed through his facepalm.

Jason fist-bumped the air. "Hah! Told you!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“We're going to Disneyland!"

“No, we’re not.”

As the two boys got into an argument over who said what, who was better at geography, and - for some reason - who had gone on the most vacations, Dick sluggishly realized a third voice was being suspiciously quiet. Frowning, he looked up at Rachel, eyeing her curiously. She wasn't a loud girl, by no means boisterous or outspoken, but she certainly wasn't one to miss out on some playful banter. To his surprise, Dick found her staring right back at him. She broke contact first, almost immediately diverting her eyes to her cup, then the tabletop, then her sleeves when nothing else seemed interesting enough.

Something was going on inside of her and, whatever it was, it made Dick's heart rate spike to dangerous levels. That, or the coffee and lack of sleep. He wasn't sure which was which anymore. But at least dealing with a moody, mysterious teenage girl with interdimensional demon powers seemed like the easier of the problems to rectify. Or at least he hoped so.

"You good?" he asked quietly, his words more in his eyes and worried tilt of his brow than his lips.

She nodded quickly. "Yeah." Too quickly.

Still, a diner - as sparsely populated as it might be - wasn't the place to have this conversation. He'd have to ask again later, in private. Guilt sprang to his chest at the thought, and he remembered the way she had cried on the side of the road, the panic attack she had had just looking at him. She didn't trust him, he berated himself bitterly. It hurt and went against every instinct he had to cherish and protect the girl, but that was apparently what she wanted. (Not that he blamed her, of course.) Her scene on the highway and the way she had avoided him had made that very clear.

"Good," he responded dumbly. And he hated it, hated what he had said and how he had said it, but even that much was enough to cause her to flinch and he wanted to rip something - or _someone_ \- apart. He had, at some point between entering Angela's house and leaving it, hurt this special, wonderful girl and quite possibly lost her forever.

Suddenly he had no taste for his coffee anymore, and the temperature had nothing to do with it.

"How about this?" he spoke up. The boys eventually settled. Gar looked at him expectantly as Jason fidgeted with his drink. Someone had clearly won _that_ argument.

"We compromise. We'll stay here for the rest of today. Tonight, we can do some research and find somewhere interesting to stop at on the way out to San Fran. Should be able to make the drive in four, maybe five days. Six depending on how often we stop and for what. I'll drive. Jason, you want to stop so badly, you're in charge of the map. But remember Gar wants to get to San Fran ASAP so only stop where we need to, alright?

“Gar, you have the most specialized diet so you're in charge of figuring out food. Work with Jason to coordinate stops near places where you can eat.

“And Rachel, since you don't care either way, and we're going to be spending a lot of time in the car, you can DJ. How's that sound?"

Immediately, Jason's hand shot up because of course it did. "Question. Define 'need to.' Because clearly I am much more invested in a little thing called _having fun_ than you dirt clods are, and if I'm in charge of the map..?"

Dick leveled with him an authoritative but fair look. "First of all, just because our priorities of how we want to spend the next five days don't align with yours, doesn't mean you get to call names. It just means you get to _adapt_ and consider other people's opinions when making tough calls. Yes, sometimes even over your own. And yes, that means you will probably have to sacrifice some stuff. But that goes both ways, so work up a good rapport with your teammates and everyone should come out happy."

The teen huffed and crossed his arms, clearly annoyed at being called out. "Sounds like you're trying to make us some sort of team or something."

"If we get to San Fran and you two can occupy the same space without throwing things - notably fists - at each other, I'll consider it a success."

Gar frowned. "So, this is all some team bonding thing?"

"If you want to think of it like that, sure. But that's also my job. You just try to get along with everyone involved and find us some good grub. Leave the boring adult stuff to me."

Rachel finally spoke up, giving him a level glare. "So that's it, then?" She shrugged. "We're, just, a team now? Just like that?"

Dick felt himself folding. These kids certainly liked to make keeping a level head as difficult as possible. "I thought, maybe before we got to San Fran and set up base, we could try to aim for something resembling a team, yes." He looked at her. "Not mandatory, though. I'm... look, everyone, I'm not trying to railroad this fun vacation and shoehorn it into being some lame corporate retreat."

He looked at Jason. "Do I want this to be fun, while also teaching you all to work together? Yes."

At Gar. "Do I want to get to San Fran as soon as possible and start settling in? Definitely."

To Rachel. "Do I want us, along the way, to maybe learn to get along because, deny it or not, we are kind of a family now and wouldn't it be great if that family could unite into something stronger than its individual members?" He sighed, large eyes looking pleadingly into her cold blue ones. "More than anything. So please, all of you, just trust me on this, okay? I'm not perfect, I know it--"

( _"YOU ARE A FAILURE!"_ )

"I'm far from perfect, in fact. But I'm trying to bring us together. To teach us how to connect and act as a cohesive unit." Words and limited energy spent, he collapsed backward into the seat, rubbing a hand across his face. He really needed a shave. He deflated with a drawn-out sigh, his bravado abandoning him with it. "That's all. Sorry for lecturing you." A nod to Jason. "Did I answer all of your questions?"

The younger Robin nodded silently. "For now," he muttered as an afterthought because heaven forbid he not get the last word.

"Great. Anyone else have anything?"

Timidly, Gar raised his hand. It earned him Dick's undivided (albeit so goddamn tired) attention.

"How am I supposed to know which places are good to eat at or not?"

"We can research that tonight while Jason is looking up attractions."

"Okay, sounds good."

After a pause, Dick raised his hands, welcoming any last-minute comments or inquiries. Satisfied that the table had finally spoken its peace, he nodded. "Great. We'll leave first-ish thing in the morning so don't plan on staying up too late tonight. In the meantime, anything, in particular, you all are itching to check out?"

Gar cleared his throat. "So, is there a theater or not?"

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Surprisingly, there was. It was small and quaint - "Like everything else in this dump." "Yes, thank you, Jason." - so there were only three titles to choose from. A heterosexual rom-com, a recently released rated R thriller, or a matinee of a classic monster movie. Jason, obviously, voted for the thriller and it was only thanks to Dick's sleepless and strongly caffeinated mind that he was given permission to get a ticket. Gar, to the shock of both Robins, was deeply invested in seeing the classic monster movie. It was, apparently, no surprise to Rachel, whom he desperately wanted to go with him. She politely declined, though, explaining she wasn't really in the mood for mind-controlling aliens from space. No one had to wonder why.

Luckily the screenings where happening relatively close to each other, with Jason's starting half an hour before Gar's. So, Dick gave them enough cash for the tickets, popcorn, and some leftover for the minuscule arcade so Gar could occupy himself. Since Jason's ended first, he would take up lookout, waiting for Gar before leaving. Together, they were expected back at the motel no later than 6 PM, unless decisions were made about dinner. Then Jason would be texted and they would rendezvous there instead. It was a good, solid plan, that definitely didn't leave Dick's stomach doing weird flip flops at the thought of two of the three kids being totally unsupervised for the next two hours. And the fact that he would now be stuck alone with Rachel for that long didn't have anything to do with it.

He certainly wasn't intimidated by a girl who weighed 80 pounds soaking wet and currently possessed the emotional stability of a leaf in a tornado.

Nowhere else to go, the two wandered the two and a half square blocks of downtown, window shopping up and down Main Street. Dick hoped he wasn't moving too fast for her or dragging her around when she would much rather be alone (away from him) in her motel room. He hoped she wasn't just being polite by not telling him to fuck off.

He hoped she didn't hate him.

They were in an antique store that was surprisingly big considering the size of the town, looking over a rack of vinyl’s like they were in some cheesy Molly Ringwald 80s movie. He would show Rachel a record he thought she would like. She'd make a face and retaliate with some randomly selected one for him, showing off the bizarre early-70s cover art. As much of a music person as he was, even he had to admit some of her choices were a bit out of left field. Which, of course only spurred her on, no longer interested in the artists she recognized. Now her only motivation was finding something stranger than some Baptist quartets with hair and hats bigger than their holier-than-thou grins.

"Back at the diner," she said suddenly, revealing a cover of a man posing with a puppet on his lap, both decked out in gaudy red, white, and blue costumes. Dick snorted involuntarily at the sight, disguising it as a cough so the store owner didn't get offended. "You, uh, you said something...," she continued, replacing that record and flipping idly through the selection. Dick had a feeling weird art wasn't exactly what she was looking for anymore.

Nervous, he wracked his brain, trying to recall whatever BS had come pouring out of his mouth that had made her so upset. He couldn't think of anything and it only served to frustrate him further.

"You called me Rache."

He kept his eyes level with the vinyl’s, making a show of scrutinizing the selection when, in reality, his mind was a million miles away. He did? When? He could barely remember the bagel he had eaten this morning - well, swallowed a few bites of and promptly discarded because there was stuff to do - much less every word spoken in a rather long and unpredictable conversation that had dissolved into the mating dances of geese at some point? And if Gar could transform into one for “totally scientific reasons, Dick!”

Carefully, he flicked his gaze up to her, studying her round face. She didn't look upset, or even really bothered by the accidental nickname. More contemplative than anything else.

"Was that the wrong thing to say?" he wondered because boy did he ever.

She shrugged noncommittally. "Don't know. Just wasn't expecting it, I guess."

And, okay, now he wanted to dive into what, exactly, she meant by _that_. His brain was working overtime, whirling unhelpfully as he tried to decipher her seemingly cryptic response. Why hadn’t she? Did she not like nicknames? Had she told him that before and he just forgot? Was it inappropriate, seeing as they weren't really friends anymore?

"Okay." Was all he managed to say. She looked at him critically and he panicked. "I mean, I didn't mean to offend you, if that's what you're saying. It must have just slipped out, I'm sorry. I won't say it again if that's what you want."

She made a face, thinking his response over. Eventually, she clicked her heels together, pivoting to face him fully. "I don't know yet. Let me think it over and let you know."

He smirked. "Fair enough. And in the meantime, Rachel it is." His eyes flicked down. "Or would you prefer Squirt?” Lifting up another album, he revealed the cover of a young lady, looking wistfully into the distance, clutching a soda and surrounded by records. The title read “Squirt Does Its Thing” in wispy, hippy letters.

Rachel barked out a shocked laugh. "Oh my _god_!" she wheezed, reaching for the album. Dick passed it to her over the rack, her eyes scanning it hungrily. "Are... what are those, _bees_?" she wondered in shock, pointing to the decorative insect looking things surrounding the title.

Dick leaned in to get a closer look but ultimately shook his head, unable to tell for sure. "They're jewelry, I think? Earrings and stuff, I don't know."

"Oh my god..." Rachel chuckled fondly, drinking in every detail of the cover. "I need this in my life. Dick, you _have_ to get this for me!"

He leveled her with a disbelieving grin. "That? Out of all the selection here, you want 'Squirt Does its Thing'?"

"I _have_ to have it! You don't understand!"

Laughing, he raised his hands in surrender. "Alright! Alright, fine! Just, don't let Jason see it. Or Gar. Or really anyone, ever."

She grinned offering her hand over the rack. He took it, shaking it once.

"Deal."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Rachel and Dick were hanging out in the room, discussing options for dinner, when they heard Gar and Jason approaching. The boys were loud, but their tones had the undercurrent of humor, bouncing playfully off each other as they joked back and forth. Rachel's eyes checked the door. Dick's went to the clock.

"You're late," he said in lieu of a greeting as the door was shoved open. He looked up at the two, eyeing them critically. He felt three pairs of eyes roll at him. "What? You think that's something to be taken lightly?"

Gar ducked and shuffled inside. Jason, for his part, stood his ground. He flashed Dick with a look, checking his watch.

"Oh so that does work," Dick commented, shifting to face the boy. He felt a fight coming and though he regretted souring the mood, they had him worried sick getting back later than expected. That, and something about responsibility, blah blah blah, adult stuff Bruce had been shoving down his throat at their age.

"Yeah, it works just fine. And, huh, look at that, says we're only 14 minutes late," Jason replied. "So weird. Because, by the way you’re acting, it’s almost like we, I don’t know, burning down the orphanage or something. So lay off, alright? The movies went long.”

"The movie didn't go long."

"Oh? And what makes you so sure?"

Dick held up his phone. "Google knows everything. The runtime should've ended right as we scheduled--"

"Previews."

The older Robin sighed, dropping his arms and giving Jason a sad look. This attempt at arguing was just pathetic. "I took previews into account when I gave you two hours. You took that two and gave yourself extra time. So..." He glanced back at Gar, who was huddled guiltily by the bathroom - the safest corner of the room. "Who wants to tell me what happened?"

The beast boy cleared his throat, stepping forward nervously. "I--"

"No, you didn't," Dick interrupted, holding up a finger to shush him. He glanced back. "Sorry, Gar, but I know it wasn't you."

Jason squawked at him. "You're blaming me?"

"I'm not _blaming_ anyone. I'm not even really mad--"

"Could've fooled me."

"--I just want an explanation. Preferably an apology and maybe a promise that it won't happen again, but let's start small."

Jason threw his hands in the air, stomping to the back of the room. "Unbelievable."

Dick rolled his eyes, turning after the teen. "Hey! I just got through laying down the ground rules back at the diner. We're training to be a team, okay? And first step of working together is trusting each other. And I can't trust you if you can't keep your word. Now if something came up and you decided to hang out in the arcade longer or take a different way back to the motel, fine. Just tell me next time."

"Jesus!" Jason shouted. "You really wanna know where we are so badly? Then why don't you just stick a bunch of trackers in us like the Bat did!"

"Because I'm not him!" Dick retaliated instantly. He sucked in a breath through his nose, hands flexing in an effort to calm down. "I'm not. And I'm not trying to be. That's why I just want you to tell me when you change the plan. If you wanted to, I don't know, go out for pizza or stay and catch another screening, fine. Just tell me so I'm not sitting here worrying if you've been kidnapped by deranged madmen!"

Jason stomped back to him, thrusting a finger in Dick's chest. "Because you don't think we can handle ourselves, is that it!”

"Because I _thought_ you were better than this." In a flash he had his hand in Jason's back pocket, snatching his phone.

"Hey, man, what the hell!"

Dick inspected it casually. "Oh, so this works too, huh?" He leveled Jason with a parental glare and wondered in the back of his mind how many of those the kid had gotten that didn't involve beer or inevitable bruises. "Use it next time, yeah?" He offered the phone back, quirking an eyebrow.

Grunting, Jason took it back, shoving it in his pocket and backpedaling to a safe distance.

"That's all I ask. Just communicate next time," Dick added, letting sincerity soak his words. He was still upset, and rightfully so, but he was trying to teach the lot of them into being different – to being better. He certainly didn't want to traumatize them into never accepting his counsel, as tough love as it may be.

" _Whatever_ ," the younger Robin huffed back, keeping his eyes turned away. Suddenly the room felt stifling, with three other sets of eyes on him, judging him, finding him unworthy. "I need some air," he muttered quickly, shouldering Dick out of the way as he practically ran for the door.

Dick let him go, rolling his eyes. "We're doing dinner soon so don't be gone too--" The door slammed shut hard enough to shake the wall. "...long."

There was quiet for a minute before Rachel loudly pulled in a sigh. "Well. That went well."

Emotionally spent for what was probably the fourth time today, Dick looked at her. "Well, no one got stabbed so I guess I would call it a success."

The girl blinked at him, finally shaking her head with an incredulous look. "So that's where the line is, then. Good to know."

"Rachel, no, that's not what--"

"Whatever. You enjoy your little macho testosterone feud all you want," she said, patting him condescendingly on the arm as she thumped by. Grabbing her cloak, she slipped out the door, careful to bring the spare key with her.

Dick's eyes fell shut, listening to her leave. "Damnit," he muttered. So much for the progress they had made back at the antique store. Looks like they were back to square one. Slumping on the edge of a bed, he dragged a palm across his face, feeling his stumble and wishing more than anything he could stop fucking everything up every time he opened his mouth.

"You okay?" Gar asked quietly.

Dick startled, yelping in surprise. Damnit. Gar was still here. How had he forgotten that Gar was still here? He sighed, willing his heart rate to slow down to reasonable levels. He really needed some sleep.

"All things considered, I guess so."

Gar made a noise of understanding, though Dick very much doubted he did. "Ah. Right." Slowly, cautiously, the boy made his way back into the room. He eased himself down on the corner of the bed, still within arm’s reach of Dick but trying to avoid his personal space. Joke's on him, after being deprived of most forms of physical affection since he was twelve, Dick _had_ no sense of personal space. It's the kind of thing he would've talked to a shrink about if he could be bothered to scare off another one.

"Look, man, I'm sorry about being late." Gar started and Dick forced himself to relax, slumping even further. "Jason, he... well, I guess I shouldn't point fingers. I thought about calling or texting or something but just lost track of time. Didn't realize it was so late."

Dick sighed, bringing his head up to stare out the window. Damn these kids, breaking him apart only to put him back together with kind words and quiet apologies. "You wanna know a secret?" He glanced back at the boy, who was catching his eye uncertainly. "From back in my early Robin days?"

That got the kid's eyes to light up like spotlights and he shifted excitedly. "More than anything."

Dick laughed at him. "Okay, well calm down, it's not exactly a good story."

"Sure, no problem."

He wasn't calm and it would be a major problem.

"Okay. Well, like I said, back in my younger days. Think I was about fourteen or so, I don't remember. But I was definitely starting to get that rebellious teenage itch, you know? When the only thing you can think about is sticking it to the man, just to piss him off."

"Yeah, totally."

He totally didn't.

"Anyway. I guess I hit that stride earlier in life than I was supposed to because no one at the-- back in Gotham was prepared for it. I even took the Bat by surprise a few times, which, believe you me, is not an easy feat. But I started exploring and looking around and watching all these movies and reading these books about these badass teen rebels. And they all had one thing in common, every one of them." He paused, looking at Gar in the eyes. "They ran away from home."

Gar's face dropped to the floor in shock. "You-- you ran away?"

"I _tried_ to," Dick corrected, holding up a finger. "Emphasis on tried. I remember I was really irritated that night - I honestly couldn't tell you what about - but I looked around my room, at all the things he had given me, and thought 'you know what? Fuck this. I'm out.' So, I grabbed a duffel, threw some stuff in, and set out." He chuckled sadly, or maybe it was fondly, his eyes focused on the distant memory. Felt like a lifetime ago, having that much youthful spunk and zest for life. "I didn't make it one night before I realized what an ass I had been and how scary the real world was. Made me realize how much I had started to rely on the Bat for my, well, everything, too. Safety and support, all of that. So the next night I worked up the courage and came back."

Gar was hanging on his every word like water in the desert. "You're like the prodigal son,” he breathed.

Dick laughed at him.

The boy explained: "Grabbing your shit, running away, then coming back after sobering up? You’re totally the prodigal son."

Dick nodded, allowing that interpretation of the old story. "I guess so, sure."

"So what happened? How did Batman take it? He give you a lecture? Or, oh, make you do, like, a thousand pushups?"

Frowning, Dick shrugged. "Not exactly. When I got back, the house was empty and the doors were locked. I had to sneak in through a window around the back. I was still reeling from my misadventure so decided it would be best to just go to bed and confront him in the morning."

"And? How'd that go?"

A long sigh. "It didn't. He wasn't there. He wasn't at breakfast, apparently already having left for work for the day. I didn't even see him until that night, way past my bedtime. By the time I did see him again, it was long enough for him to give me a rundown of the night, give me my chores, and shoo me off to bed."

A frowned tinted Gar's eyes as the meaning moral of the story seemed to sink in. "You mean, he didn't bring it up? Not ever?"

"For the longest time I wasn't sure if he even noticed. He certainly didn't act like he had." Dick wondered if that was what prompted Bruce to start injecting him with trackers or if he had already had one in him by that point, thus calming the old man’s nerves about him being gone. He honestly wasn't sure which was worse, though both options made his stomach roll.

"Wow," Gar breathed in disbelief. The shock must have taken the wind out of him, and his bright-eyed innocence with it. Batman was a douche sometimes. Big surprise. "That must've been really hard."

"It was at the time. And for a little while after that, too. Felt like he didn't care about me. Sure, I made all the excuses for him - he was busy, it was just tough love, he wasn't ready to deal with it yet - anything I could think of. Eventually, we seemed to forget about it and move on, but every once in a while after that, whenever we were scoping out some drug ring or whatever, and we would have to separate, I would look around and wonder if he would notice if I just... disappeared and never came back."

"Jesus."

Dick would have to agree. But pity wasn't the point of all of this. "I say all of that to say, I know what Jason's going through. If there's one thing about the Bat, it's that he never changes. So that whole thing earlier, that whole lecture about responsibility and taking his phone and all of that?"

Gar nodded in understanding. "You don't want him to feel like you did."

"Exactly. He may not like it, but them's the breaks. He's part of a team now, we all are, and we all have to learn what that means. From how we plan to who we talk to and about what.” He sighed, mulling over the right words as he pulled at his hair. "I just want to work out the kinks now so by the time we get to San Francisco, we don't have to worry about them anymore. Because, trust me, we'll have plenty more on our plates by then. And if we can't handle sending a text on the way back from the movies..."

"We're all gonna die."

Dick barked out a laugh. "Well, maybe not _die_ , but yeah. It'll make everything that much more complicated."

Gar nodded, looking forward as he digested what he had been told. It made sense and, if he was being honest, he felt like Dick hadn't been harsh _enough_ with him and Jason. Of course, that was coming from an overdeveloped sense of "everything wrong that ever happened ever was your fault" beaten into him by the doctor and a severely underdeveloped sense of emotional self-preservation, so maybe his wasn't an expert opinion. Still, he had gotten familiar with Jason over the last couple of days and even though he could be a hard ass, there was still a good kid in there underneath all the bravado and _machismo_ as Rachel would've put it.

"Yeah, no, I got you," he said finally. Dick looked at him curiously. "I think you handled it well. You've been handling pretty much everything well enough since this whole thing started, I guess."

"Well enough?" Dick smirked.

Shrugging, Gar played innocent. "Remember I only came in, like, halfway through. So, I missed the whole opening chapters of this little heroic tale. But from what I have seen, yeah, I'd say you're doing alright." He smirked, shoving into Dick playfully. "You know, all things considered."

"Oh," the older Robin laughed. "Two days in and you're already using my own words against me, is that it? Is that how we're doing it?"

Gar paled at the Robin-voice, suddenly remembering exactly who it was he was picking a fight with. "Nope!" He stood, hands raised in preemptive surrender. "Nope! No way! We are absolutely _not_ doing this!"

Dick watched him, amused. "What? Why not?"

"Uh-uh! No way, man! You aren't fooling me with your, your, boring, every-day Joe routine!" He quieted, hissing out a deadly secret. "I know who you are!"

Slowly, Dick frowned at him, thoroughly unaware of where this had come from and where it was going. "O-kay? And?"

"You really think I'm stupid enough to try to play mind games with OG Robin?"

OG Robin? Is that what they were calling him now? He wanted to protest that he definitely wasn't trying to play mind games with Gar but quickly decided against it. Watching the kid spiral into madness was much too entertaining.

"Oh no!" Gar continued, backpedaling dramatically. "You're already in! You’ve started and I didn't even notice!" He stopped, puffing out his chest. "You play a hard game, Sir Grayson, Dick of Gotham! But you will not best me!"

Dick gave him a completely perplexed albeit perfectly entertained look of confusion.

Gar withered immediately. "I'm, uh, gonna go shower!" he muttered, scrambling for the bathroom. The door slammed shut and the room fell into quiet, leaving one Dick Grayson blinking owlishly to the nothingness.

The _hell_ had just happened?

The outside door unlocked just then and Rachel walked in. She took one look at his crooked eyebrows and stopped, confused herself. "What happened to you?"

He shrugged, shaking his head. "For the first time in my life, I genuinely have no idea."

Rachel frowned, deeming the room safe to enter and slipped the door closed behind her. "Whatever," she hummed, shrugging off her cloak. Dick schooled his features and looked at her, taking a moment to give her a once over. She still seemed on edge but didn't appear as pissed off as she was when she stormed out. The air in the room hadn't dropped several degrees when she reentered too, so there was that.

"How're you doing?" he asked, shuffling to face her a little better.

She shrugged noncommittally. "He's still pissed at you."

"You talked to him?"

"A little. Tried to explain that, while you might be an ass, you aren't all bad."

He feigned hurt (because that totally didn't sting and leave him wanting to somersault off a tall building.) "Ouch."

She raised her hands. "Don't get lecture-y on me too. I was just trying to smooth out your mess."

His gaze fell to the floor. She was right. "You're right. I didn't mean to make fun, I'm sorry. I appreciate you trying to help." The "but next time like me deal with my own disasters or you're never going to be able to stop" was wisely left unsaid, though that didn't mean he didn’t think it. As sweet as it was, cleaning up after Dick Grayson was full-time responsibility, one that very few people on this planet were qualified to handle. One was Bruce. Another was Donna. But none of them were little Rachel Roth, still so new to this world she often forgot that sharing a room with two other teenage boys would be considered sketchy by most other people.

"Anyway," she started again. She paused on her way to the second bed, frowning and pointing at the bathroom curiously.

He shrugged. "He's taking a shower, I guess."

"Why?"

Another shrug.

She rolled her eyes, apparently too old to be dealing with this. "Okay, whatever. He needs to hurry up, though, because we're both hungry."

Both? "Is Jason still outside?"

"Last I saw him, he was. Seemed too scared to actually run off. Worried you would blow your top again if he didn't stay within lecture distance."

Dick sighed. Because if he was breathing these days, it was in long, exhausted sighs and he was spending more time than ever wishing he wasn't at all. "It wasn't a... fine. Where do you want to eat?"

She shrugged again, unzipping her boots and plopping onto the bed. Grabbing the remote, she flicked the TV on, dialing in the channel number for the cartoons. "Isn't that up to Gar?"

"You all still get a say in it too." Somehow deciding to watch TV when they were actively discussing leaving soon didn't seem like a hill he was willing to die on. "He's just the one with the special diet, so there aren't a lot of places he can eat. Not like we can."

"He's vegan, not diabetic."

"It's a conscious choice that we, as his friends and teammates, should respect whenever possible. He's vegan, congrats, suddenly we're all vegan." She gave him a disgusted look. "Or at least conscious that veganism isn't as wildly accessible as normal diets-- I'm just gonna go check on Jason."

"I wouldn't."

"I'll be fine." Besides, he needed to get out of this room and away from the... he wasn't sure what was going on with Rachel, but she wasn't acting like herself. Unless this snarky attitude was her real self and she had just kept it hidden all this time because of the whole can't-control-my-powers nightmare scenario. Whatever it was, though, and he hesitated to say it was hormones because, one, she was still very much a minor, and two, last time he had even so much as alluded to females acting weird because of their hormones Donna had thrown him down the stairs and then proceeded to lecture him in graphic detail about the female body and what happens during that time of the month. It was more than his fourteen-year-old brain had ever wanted to know and yet, somehow, that whole experience was a major cornerstone in their still very close relationship.

God, his missed Donna. He missed being a kid with her. Getting into trouble together, sharing secrets with each other. He even missed when she would insist on taking over the whole operation, pulling her "older, smarter, prettier" card. Of course, he didn't realize it at the time, but he relished those times, devouring them hungrily because, even back then, being in charge left him a shaking, quivering mess of self-doubt. She knew that - had figured it out well before he had worked up the courage to reveal it to her in secret. The angel she was, she never once used it against him. Instead, she started teaching him, tutoring _him_ of all people on how to lead and inspire everyone from their ragtag team of sidekicks to the weirdos at school who just needed to stand up for themselves. All the while she was encouraging him, praising his natural skill and instincts, and slapping him over the head when he started listening to her a little too well.

Bruce may have taught him how to give commands and issue orders, but in all reality, it was Donna who had inspired him to become a real leader. She was the first to sign up when he proposed the original Titans, beaming with pride at how far he had come.

Dick chuckled sardonically as he spotted Jason, sulking at the far end of the parking lot. And what would Donna think of him now? He, who gives death and fate the middle finger every night, he who started the first-ever group of sidekicks, he who became a cop and had a panic attack the morning of his swearing-in ceremony. He, who was shaking and quaking in his boots when all he wanted to do was talk to a fifteen-year-old boy. He was no leader. He was barely a Titan anymore.

Jason was seated on a concrete bumper, head bobbing to the music Dick could hear from all the way over here. He caught the older Robin's approach and rolled his eyes. Dick could practically see the walls slamming into place all around the boy's vulnerable emotional parts.

Great. So back to square one with Rachel _and_ Jason now too. Excellent. Great work, Grayson.

Dick motioned to the far end of the bumper. "May I?"

The boy took a long moment to decide, eventually shrugging. "Whatever."

Grunting, Dick took a seat near the boy. He was really beginning to hate that word. He didn’t sit close enough to intrude but was definitely within arm’s reach. Best to be prepared for whatever the situation called for.

Not that he wanted to do this. At all. Honestly, if he had his way he would be back in his Chicago apartment, listening to his lo-fi records between twelve-hour shifts of lying unconscious in bed. It wasn't great, and it certainly wasn't home, but Dick wasn't sure if he had ever really considered any place home since he was forced out Haly’s. Seeing Clay again - god, he needed to call Clay - was like a breath of fresh air. Talking about their circus days, even for a moment, was like getting a full night's sleep after having insomnia since he was, well, about twelve.

He swallowed and glanced at Jason who was working hard to avoid his eyes. Sadly, he wondered if Jason had a home, if he considered Gotham - Wayne Manor - to be his home. Dick hoped not, only in that it would make the inevitable break up that much easier. Gotham sucked into you, leaking its acid and waste into your very pores, pumping itself slowly into your bones. Dick hadn't been born there, but he had spent enough time in the city to be thoroughly corrupted by her dark hold. Case in point, Tony Zucco. Cutting ties and leaving had been hard, of course. One of the hardest things he had ever done.

Detoxing from Gotham and learning about Chicago had been... well, he kind of understood what Dorothy was going through when she stepped out of that little old farmhouse and saw over the rainbow for the first time.

He hoped it wasn't too late for Jason. He hoped he could still be saved from Gotham's corruption. From _Batman’s_ corruption before he did something stupid like Dick had. Something he couldn't just pack and up and run away from.

"Jason.."

It ended as quickly as it started. What was he supposed to say? What would he have said to himself at fifteen? He chuckled darkly. Nothing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. And that was exactly the problem.

 _God,_ he wasn't qualified for this. He was trying to teach and train and love a group of kids who were just as messed up - if not more so - than he was at their age. Than he was _earlier today_. He had blood on his hands and way too much hatred in his heart. He didn't deserve these kids and they certainly deserved someone better than him to watch out for them.

He sighed, swallowing carefully. "We're gonna go eat soon. If you want a say in where we go, I suggest you come back in." It was all he could say before he was shooting to his feet, walking across the parking lot in a stride way too brisk for any emotionally well put together man. He considered poking his head back into the other to check on Rachel and Gar but quickly thought better of it. With a shudder in his heart, he fished out the other room key, shoving it into the lock and disappearing inside.

He didn't want to bother them. He didn't want to be anywhere near them. He could feel Gotham's corruption sticking to his skin like dried blood, seeping into the cracks in his palms. He couldn't contaminate them; they were too good for him, to decent and pure. And he... he was nothing. He was a whirlwind of tragedy, bringing only pain and suffering to anyone he encountered.

Gulping in gasps of air and trying not to shake himself to an early grave, he stumbled into the room. Kicking the door shut behind him, he closed out the good, pure things of this world, unknowingly slamming it shut on Jason's concerned scowl. Alone, with his thoughts, and the putrid smell that was his existence was exactly where he needed to be. Where he _deserved_ to be. As far removed from everyone he could taint as possible.


	3. The Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of fluff and affection in this one. Don't make it weird. 
> 
> Also, I have no idea how California works. Forgive me San Fran.

Dick was gone long enough that Rachel was starting to get worried. Not that it took a lot for her to worry about Dick Grayson, especially when he did a disappearing act like this. It was becoming a regular occurrence, him disappearing on them for hours or days at a time. She didn't like it, but she guessed she might as well get used to it.

And here he was, just a little while ago lecturing them about staying in touch and communicating.

Still, as the clock ticked on and the cartoons changed to the evening news, to the nightly game shows all the old people enjoyed watching, she couldn't stay mad at him. Minutes, an hour ticked by without so much as a word from Dick about a change of plans or what they were going to eat. And she was very hungry.

Gar was sitting next to her, shower long since over with. He shifted nervously and she wondered if he needed to transform or something. She hadn't seen him take any other form for a few days now - since the incident at the asylum from what she could remember - and wasn't sure if it was something he needed to do regularly. Like how a runner will go crazy if they can't jog a couple of miles, was he feeling that same need to morph into the tiger?

The door unlocked, immediately getting their hopeful attention. Well, Gar was hopeful. Rachel was right back to being pissed. Instead of Dick, though, it was Jason who sauntered in as if the last time they had seen him he hadn't been scurrying away, tail between his legs.

"Oh," Gar sighed disapprovingly, turning back to the TV guide he was idly paging through.

"Oh?" Jason scoffed. "What's wrong? Not happy to see your favorite Robin?"

"You are _not_ our favorite Robin," Rachel was quick to shoot down, which, ow. She huffed, changing the channel. "We were just expecting Dick."

"Yeah. He's been gone for a while and we're starving," Gar grumbled. Rachel chewed her bottom lip. Well, yeah, they were hungry, but she was pretty sure they _all_ knew the real reason behind the anxiety. Not that she should be worried; he did this all the time, after all. She just, maybe thought that with all his speeches of responsibility and team-bonding this time would be different.

"Same," Jason agreed easily. Too easily. Rachel squinted at him suspiciously.

"What?" he gasped.

"What did you do?"

"Oh, you mean other than freezing my ass off in the backwater parking lot of some backwater town somewhere?" He smirked evilly, raising up his hand. “And maybe also procuring a wait for us to get out of here.”

Gar frowned, slowly straightening. "Are those..?"

"The keys to the Jeep? Why yes, my little tattletale, friend. Yes, they are."

Rachel was immediately not okay with this. "How did you get those?" she accused even as Gar was bounding off the bed to inspect the items in awe.

Jason shrugged and looked much too big for his age. "What can I say? Old man is getting slow in his, well, old age, exactly like I said he was."

Gar eyed him. "You saying you stole those from Dick?"

"And he _let_ you?" Rachel was standing now, anxiety screaming at her to stop this, to say something before they made a stupid mistake. Her brain was full of red alerts and sirens, making it hard to think. Why didn't Dick have the keys? They all knew he wasn't going to let either of them drive. And why was it so easy for Jason to take them? And if Dick was nearby - he must be, Jason didn't say anything about chasing him down - why wasn't he here, and why was he just _letting_ Jason take the keys to their only ride of all things?

Jason was regarding her condescendingly. "Rache, I don't think you really know how _stealing_ works."

" _Don’t_ call me that," she bit back darkly.

"Why not?"

"I don't like it."

"Who cares?!" Gar interrupted happily. Suddenly he paused, realizing what he had just said. "Oh, uh, no, not about that, sorry. I mean, hel- _lo_? We have the keys to the _Jeep_! We can go out for food - we don't have to wait for Dick to come back from wherever he went off to. We can go _now_ , whenever and wherever we want!"

Rachel looked at him, feeling personally attacked even as he high-fived Jason excitedly. "Gar, I... you can't be serious?"

"What? I'm hungry, you're hungry, we're all hungry. It's a small town, what's the worst that can happen?" He handed the keys back, padding excitedly over to Rachel. She leaned away from him. "Rachel, come on. Dick is gone and who knows when he'll be back. Do you really want to just sit around waiting for him?"

"Yes!" she shot back. "That's _exactly_ what I want to do! Who gives you the right to decide what we should do?"

"No one," Jason added from the doorway. "No one is _choosing_ to do anything, not without a vote."

"A what?"

"A vote, you heard me. Isn’t that what a _team_ does? Besides..." He jangled the keys like a cat toy. "Dick is all about that team-bonding, right?"

Rachel's clear eyes shot between both boys, looking for an ally in this fight. Seeing none, she forced a tense sigh. "This is a mistake," she hissed, grabbing her cloak and shoving her way to the door. "This is a really stupid mistake!"

"I know right?!" Jason whooped excitedly, ushering Gar out.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Dick awoke with a start, demons and dead bodies, friends and family crushed under rubble and the heel of his boot vanishing from his mind. Gasping, he rolled over to find the clock. 7:28 PM.

Oh _shit_.

"Shit!" Scrambling up, he hobbled on still sleepy legs to the bathroom to check his reflection and splash his face. Oh god he looked absolutely pitiful. A restless hour of sleep had done more harm than good to his dark bags and already frazzled mind. He splashed his face a few times, hoping to wash away and leftover traces of the demons that had haunted his sleep. Couldn't very well command respect if he looked like he'd been living in a garbage dump for ten years. If, of course, respect was what he was still trying to command.

At this point, he didn't know what he wanted anymore. On legs that were slightly more functional, he rushed to the door and tripped outside. Maybe he wanted respect. Maybe he wanted a break. In the end, though, he figured what he really wanted what was best for the kids. And that, clearly, wasn't him. Him, who had just hyperventilated his way into passing out when there was dinner to be discovered and a road trip to be planned.

He coughed once outside, the cold night air like a punch to his unsuspecting lungs. It would be fine. He would just apologize and go get them some of the cheapest, junkiest, sugary-est fast food he could find to make up for it. Whatever they wanted, as much as they wanted. Hell, he'd even throw in a personalized tub of ice cream for every one of them if that's what they demanded.

Rushing to the room next door, he fished around in his jacket for the key. He panicked when he didn't find it. So, he forgot the spare key. Fine. That was fine. They would let him in. Jason had demonstrated his peculiar knack for knowing it was Dick at the door time and again. Unless he just didn't care and was inviting in whoever happened to knock, in which case they would _have_ to talk about his self-preservation instincts.

Didn't Bruce teach him better than that?

He knocked twice and waited, a string of different apologies whizzing through his head. He overslept. He lost track of time. Something came up.

Groaning, he knocked again. No matter the excuses he came up with, there was a snarky comeback ready and available. "Oh, wasn't responsible enough to look at a clock, huh?" "Couldn't even be bothered to send a text?" "Does _your_ phone work?"

This sucked. No two ways about it, it _sucked_. And whatever heaping piles of abuse the kids had ready for him, he deserved.

He went to knock a third time and paused, this time refusing to panic. He heard the TV from inside but it wasn't loud enough to drown him out. They might've been asleep, passed out from boredom waiting for him to get back, but Jason and Rachel, even Gar, were all relatively light sleepers. Be it from training or paranoia, it made for an easy waking up in the middle of the night.

Slowly, he tried the door handle. If they weren't opening up for him, maybe he could let himself in (and isn't that how every parenting book ever said exactly how _not_ to act?) The handle moved under his light touch.

Instantly, every muscle in his body tensed, senses cranking up to high alert. They never, _never_ left the door unlocked. Hand moving to where his gun used to be - funny how muscle memory worked - he wished desperately for a weapon as he silently slipped the door open, cautiously inspecting the inside of the room. The TV was on. The TV Guide splayed out next to the remote. But no sign of a struggle and, most importantly, no kids. He checked the bathroom, just in case, and came up just as empty.

Finding himself in the middle of an empty room that, for all accounts, should be full of teenagers grumpy at him for making the go hungry, he felt a familiar blaze of rage ignite in his chest. Anger, resentment, lashing out, this was an internal fire, a white-hot flame churning inside of him that he was oh so familiar with. It was the same one that forced him to train his body every night far past his own limits to become Robin. It was the very same raging inferno that let Tony Zucco die. And it was the very same all-consuming fire that made him leave Gotham behind and escape far away to Chicago.

And now it was back, after being dormant, cast aside, and forgotten for so long. He had been ignoring this part of himself, truly, trying so hard to fit into the mold of patient parent and understanding boyfriend.

"Damnit!" he cursed, pivoting and storming out of the room. He had tried. He had taken their abuse and teases and _tried_ to be patient and gentle and loving. And look what had happened?

They wouldn't respect the good cop? Fine. They'd just learn to fear the bad one.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Rachel wasn't sure how it had happened. One moment she was stomping her foot and refusing to leave Dick behind to go joyriding with a bunch of boys, and the next she was sneaking into a movie theater through the back - Gar was _really_ good at getting into places, and didn't even have to strip down to do it - and giggling nervously as they almost got caught. Food had been acquired earlier, that hole in the wall would never be the same again, and now it was time to, as Jason had put it, "live a little." And though breaking and entering didn't seem like it would be on the list of Approved Extracurriculars for Young People, she'd be damned if she was going to stop it now.

Jason had been right about one thing - Dick was being a stick in the mud, always insisting on rules and a plan hammered down to the very minute. Living was spontaneity and spontaneity was _fun_. So much fun she didn't want to stop even if her conscience was scolding her into doing just that.

Sneaking three huge bags of popcorn and a handful of power drinks, they strode confidently into the nearest theater, not really caring which movie it was. At this point, they only cared about having the audacity to act like they owned the place and hadn't snuck in through a rusty door in the back.

They ended up in the rom-com room, which was fine with her. Because the only other people in the theater were young white couples who very much disapproved of being made fun of while they made out but were too chicken to do anything about it. Once the trio had successfully scared off the few of the remaining patrons, with a surplus of kissy faces and dramatic waves goodbye from the back of the theater, they had the whole room to themselves about still about 45 minutes agonizing minutes left to kill.

The couple on screen stared longingly into each other's eyes and Gar made the most horrendous gagging sounds ever uttered by a human being. Jason turned his back to them, rubbing his arms up and down his sides and pretending to make out with someone called the same thing the female lead in the movie was. Rachel howled with laughter at them both.

When the couple finally got around to confessing their love, the teenagers booed obnoxiously. One of them chucked their popcorn and the others quickly followed suit, shouting at the screen and telling the characters to get a room. Jason stood, dropping his pants and flashing his exposed ass cheeks to the screen.

"Hey! Why don't you kiss _this_!" he taunted, shaking crudely. Gar and Rachel couldn't breathe, they were laughing too hard.

And then, as if listening to their boisterous audience, the newly formed couple found themselves stumbling into the most luxurious and expensive looking hotel suite any of the kids had ever seen.

"Oh god, they're actually doing it!" Jason shouted in glee.

"They heard you, Rachel! They _heard you_!" Gar was next to her, shaking her excitedly. Rachel laughed, unable to tear her eyes from the screen.

The couple crashed through yet another room, huffing and panting as they tore at each other's clothes. The man shoved the woman into a vase, the whole thing toppling and shattering across the floor. A bouquet of perfect roses splattered everywhere dramatically.

The man laughed, his companion giggling nervously at what she had done.

 _"Oopsie,"_ she teased, biting her lip and looking in the man's eyes innocently.

 _"Oopsie, indeed,"_ he purred back, breathing the words in between her ruby red lips and perfect teeth. _"How about we let the maid deal with it, huh?"_ He bit her lips, earning an over-the-top moan from deep within her throat. _"I have a feeling a vase isn't the only thing we're going to be breaking tonight."_

The teens sat in horrified silence, eyes glued to the giant screen before them. Even in the back row, the picture felt too big to handle, like it was smothering them. Sounds of moaning and carnal pleasure filled the large dark room, reverberating all the way up the rafters.

Gar made a face as the woman giggled on screen, telling the man to do dirty things to her. "White people," he moaned.

" _Straight_ white people," Jason corrected, his face screwed up in vile disgust.

Rachel suddenly felt sick. "My... my heart hurts..." she grumbled, rubbing at her temples.

"Yeah, I don't blame you," Gar muttered absently, the boys startling as the woman let out a sudden loud shrill of pleasure.

"No, really... I don't feel good," Rachel groaned. Her arm went to wrap around her middle protectively as cramps seized her insides. "Think I'm gonna be sick..."

"Whoa, whoa, not on my shoes, you don't!" Jason hissed, pulling his feet to his chest.

"Whoa, hey, Rachel, you don't look so good," Gar observed quietly. He touched her shoulder with worry, finding it hot to his touch. Gently, he felt her forehead with the back of his hand.

"Yo, she good?"

Gar shook his head, already getting to his feet. "She's burning up."

Jason sobered, watching with concern as Gar guided Rachel to her feet. "No shit?"

"No shit." The beast boy nodded to the door. "Let's get her out of here."

The young Robin scrambled to his feet, eager to get out of their way. "Yeah, yeah, totally." Once clear of the aisle, Jason took her hand, guiding her one by one down the stairs, Gar's hands gently on her shoulders, helping to keep her upright.

"Thanks," she mumbled, head still bowed against the lights and noises of the giant screen before them. Every move made her feel dizzy, the sudden pounding in her head making her want to throw up and promptly pass out. Together, they shuffled to the doors of the theater and into the hallway, unaware of the trio of eyes watching them.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Eventually, the three of them burst through the lobby doors, entering the cold night. Jason looked at Gar worriedly.

"Should we take her back to the hotel?"

Gar shrugged. "I don't know if she can make it that far."

Rachel teetered between them, the boys scrambling to keep her upright.

"Well, we got to do something!"

"Do you think it was the food?"

Jason gaped like a drowning fish. "Dude, who the hell cares if it was the food!"

"I don't know! I’m just saying, it’s not like any allergic reaction I've ever seen!" Gar bit back. He looped Rachel's arm across his shoulders, securing her a little better.

"And how many allergic reactions have you seen?"

Turns out holding her up was a good move because not even a second later her knees gave out, sending her half crumbling to the floor in pain.

"Holy shit!" Jason grabbed her other arm, hoisting her back to her feet.

"You okay?" Gar asked, ducking slightly to look at her face. Her features were scrunched up in pain, breaths coming in short, unsteady gasps. Forcefully, she nodded.

"I can make it," she hissed. She dragged one foot forward and promptly collapsed on it.

"Yeah, no, I don't think so," Gar reprimanded worriedly. "Don't worry, okay? Between the two of us, we can carry you no problem. You just focus on not passing out."

"Or throwing up."

"Or throwing up, yeah."

Taking a few gulps of air, she nodded.

"Great. Okay, cool." Gar looked around, quickly losing what was left of his cool. "So, um, you take torso and I take legs?"

Jason scowled at him. "The hell are you talking about?"

"Carrying her! We got to get back to the hotel—”

“Motel.”

“—motel somehow!"

"Dude..." The young Robin paused, digging in his jacket pocket. After a minute he pulled out the car keys. "Did you forget that we _drove_ here?"

Gar blinked at him. "Oh yeah."

Jason huffed, unimpressed, tugging the rest of them in the direction of the car. " _'Oh yeah'_ he says."

They made it a few feet, sweaty with the exertion of trying to carry a nearly unconscious girl the same size of they were, when Jason's metaphorical hackles rose in warning. Sirens blared in his head and he flashed his eyes around the horizon, trying to identify the source. In the reflection of a store front window he saw it, three men, large, burly, mean-looking, and hot on their tails.

" _Shit_."

Gar looked at him. "What?"

"Keep your head down and don't look around."

"Why not?" Gar said, raising his head to look around. Jason slapped him halfway up.

"I said _don’t_ look around!"

"Why not?"

He checked the window again. The men were gaining on them, taking advantage of their few second pause. "We got tails."

"Oh _fuck_!" Gar hissed. “Oh shit oh fuck!” He ducked instinctively, looking nervously at Jason. "What do we do?"

"We get to the car is what we do!" the other boy spat out. "I can take these jackasses, no problem, but not while I'm carrying her."

Gar nodded. "Okay. Okay. Yeah, no problem. How long do we have?"

"Longer if we don't let them know we see them. They probably saw us come in and want to jump us where we stashed the car. So don't, like, rush it or anything."

Just then, Rachel let out a high pitched keen, stealing her arm back to wrap around her stomach as she doubled over. Gar went down with her, worriedly asking what was wrong. Jason straightened, staring out into space. "Well maybe a little faster than _that_..." After a sigh and some internal deliberation, he decided, _aw screw it_ , and snapped his head to one side.

The men following them froze, startled by the boy who was suddenly staring right at them. How had he known they were there? And how long had he known?

Having their attention, Jason licked his lips, lazily padding in a circle to face them completely. "Hey, demon girl. You good back there?" he asked casually.

She nodded. Gar was watching him with concern.

"What're you gonna do?"

The men stepped forward, boots thudding against the pavement. One was wearing slip-on sandals. Stupid. Jason cracked his neck side to side.

"Just get Rachel to the Jeep," he instructed calmly. He bounced on the balls of his feet a few times, shaking his arms loose. Pausing, he looked back at the other two. "What are you deaf? Get going!"

Motivated, Gar scrambled to his feet, pulling Rachel with him. "Wait," she was pleading, hand out to Jason.

"Come on," Gar instructed firmly. "Don't look back. Just keep going."

Jason watched them stumble along for a minute longer than necessary. His focus never left the approaching men in his peripheral, but from their angle he looked totally distracted. An easy target.

Just as they were within range, he shifted weight to one foot and bolted forward suddenly. His elbow connected harshly with one man's throat. There was a satisfying crunch and the man fell back in shock at the attack.

Two left.

Before the first target could even hit the ground, Jason was pivoting again, using his crouch to propel himself bodily into the gut of the second, smaller man. His sandals skidded uselessly on the ground and Jason landed straddling his waist. The teen drew back and threw punch after punch at the man's face, alternating randomly between his nose, eyes, and throat to make blocking as difficult as possible.

Arms were suddenly under his arms, lifting him off and away with a yell. Let it be known that Jason always needed the last word, though. Even as he was being lifted away, he swung his foot desperately at the downed man's face. The kick landed and the man's head snapped to one side. He'd be down for a while.

“Maybe next time don’t wear your flip flops to fight!” he barked.

One left.

Jason was thrown to the side. He caught himself and rolled gracefully, getting some distance between him and the remaining man. His outfit said farmer but his stance said ex-military (he dubbed him Sarge.) Jason was never a fan of how those guys fought. Mainly because they fought exactly like he did – rough and dirty - but also because they had been trained to use their guns to fend off attackers. Coming at them unarmed might've left them vulnerable, but it also left them desperate. And desperation plus just enough training to know how to hurt made for a very dangerous hand-to-hand situation.

Catching his breath, Jason slowly pulled himself upright. It made him look bigger and more intimidating than he actually was physically which was good. Because he had saved the best for last. He could hear Bruce's voice in his head, scolding him for not taking out the most dangerous first, but this wasn't Batman time. This wasn't even Robin time. This was just fun for Jason and a chance to blow off some steam time.

Then Sarge raised his hand to his mouth. Jason frowned at the cupped fingers, slipping into the corners of his lips. He whistled and suddenly Jason understood exactly what had happened. The teen turned, taking in stock of the handful of men who came out of the word work just to mess with his day.

He counted heads.

Six, plus the Sergeant there.

So seven left.

Jason smirked to hide his growing anxiety. He could take down seven grown men in his sleep. If he was back in Gotham. And wearing something other than a leather jacket and Levi’s. He rolled his neck again, going over his options. So, he might have to take a hit or two, no big deal. Certainly wasn't anything he couldn’t handle, even on his worst day. Lose an inch, gain a yard. That was how he liked to play these types of situations. The trick was making sure he only ever lost that inch. Any more than that and he would be royally screwed.

Three charged at once and Jason tackled one, letting the other two clobber each other. He grabbed his catch around the waist and dug his shoes into the pavement. The man was thrown off balance and Jason could steer him perfectly into an unsuspecting third fellow. The three of them toppled to the ground, Jason panicking for a hot second as he flailed in the air to right himself. Almost instantly he was orientated again. He pulled back and with another quick jab of his fist, the human bowling ball was gasping for air.

Five left.

Something ran into Jason from behind and he gasped, toppling forward as someone got him from the back. He was shoved toward the ground but caught himself (thank god for leather protecting sharp elbows from the rough ground) and turned. He landed more next to the man than under him. Quickly, Jason grabbed a handful of hair. "Next time, do us all a favor and lose the man bun," he scolded, slamming the hipster's forehead into the curb.

Four left.

Two more were charging and Jason kicked the hipster into their feet, tripping them long enough for him stand. He grabbed more hair and the last thing that man tasted was his knee before collapsing. A quick kick to the groin then scalp of the second and they were both indisposed of.

Two left.

Someone yelled and he turned. "Oh hey, Sarge," he saluted cheekily, teeth covered in blood. Wait, since when did he have a broken nose? Jason stepped back and ducked, a flying kick missing him completely. He dabbed at his top lip experimentally. Clean. Weird.

He sidestepped another attack and twirled. Grabbing the man's belt from behind, he steered him into that glass storefront from before. It shattered and he wiped at his nose. Still nothing. It didn't even feel bad, much less broken.

"Oh!" He snapped in realization. "I must’ve bit my lip when I, uhh..." He glanced at the pile of groaning and unconscious men at his feet. "Must have bit my lip when I..." Then back at the one lying in the remains of the window. He waved them off. "Oh, forget it. I was a badass. You all saw it."

One left.

The swish of a blade caught his attention and he looked. Sarge, the lone man standing, played menacingly with a switchblade.

Jason laughed at him. "Dude. Really?" He gestured to the expertly accumulated carnage surrounding them. "You really wanna do this?" The man took a step forward. Jason held out a hand. "Because, I mean if you really wanted to reconsider, I wouldn't blame you. At all." Another step, this time landing him on the sidewalk. Jason was forced to look up to meet his eyes.

The teen blew out a raspberry, making a show of looking unimpressed. "Fine, have it your way." He widened his stance, preparing to vault forward like he had so many times tonight.

"Jason! Duck!" Suddenly Dick was flashing across his vision. And suddenly he was on the ground, gasping and trying to get his breath back. He remembered hearing a gunshot for some reason.

"Dude! The hell, man!" he gasped, looking down at Dick who was unwinding himself from around the boy. Jason followed his eyes and looked up, back to the man he had toppled over with the human bowling ball.

Oh. Two left.

Dick was over there in flash, cracking his arm back until he dropped the gun. Then, for good measure, broke it completely. Dick punched the man unconscious before he could even finish screaming about it.

Okay. One left.

Dick switched the gun to his right hand and twisted. Jason almost couldn't follow it as it zipped through the air. It hit its mark dead-on because of course it did. Sarge crumpled to the ground, a thin stream of blood coming from a wound that could only be caused by an acrobat absolutely _hucking_ a heavy piece of metal at your face.

Jason had to admit. Even he was impressed.

None left.

"Alright!" he hooped, jumping to his feet. He sauntered over to Dick, hand raised for a fist bump. "Good work, team!"

"Where are Rachel and Gar?"

"Oh. I sent them to the car. They're fine, I stayed back and--"

"You _what_?"

"Hey, relax, big guy. I told them to get to the car as I stayed back and took care of business. What're you so worried about?"

A guttural scream erupted from the dark corner of the square and a man's body went flying through the air, black mist trailing after him.

Dick gave the younger Robin The Look as he turned and sprinted that direction.

Jason gaped after him. "Well, okay, sure! But that's still only one guy!" He watched as Dick didn't even look back. A man by his foot moaned. "What're you looking at?" the teen hissed, stomping on the man's middle for good measure.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Dick rounded the corner and slowed, readying himself for anything. A pair of greasy men came pouring out, shoving past him as they screamed about beware the demon girl.

"Dick!"

That voice he recognized. "Gar!" he answered back, rushing forward. The boy met him halfway. He looked rattled but ultimately unharmed. "Where's Rachel?"

"She's losing it, Dick! She won't listen to me!"

Dick squeezed his arms comfortingly. "Hey, it's okay, Gar. It's gonna be okay, I promise."

The boy nodded, eyes stealing nervous glances behind them.

"Go find Jason, okay?"

Gar rounded on him. "What?!"

"Gar, you're still injured and I don't know what's going on with Rachel. Please, go find Jason so I can focus on her, okay?"

The boy considered it.

"Gar, _please_."

That did it. "Okay, okay. Yeah. Just, Dick, be careful." He squeezed the older Robin's forearm and Dick felt something in his break. Damnit these kids.

"I will. It's gonna be okay. I promise." He shooed him away. "Now go."

Gar nodded once, turning tail and racing out of the alley. Dick heard him call for Jason and he sighed. Two down.

One left.

Carefully, Dick made his way deeper into the alley, rounding the corner of a small grocery store. He moved deliberately, giving his eyes time to adjust to the darkness. Once they stopped adjusting, though, he could tell he had passed from one kind of darkness to another. A glint in the distance and he spotted the Jeep, standing like a silent watcher over the scene. He patted it affectionately as he approached, offering a quick prayer of thanks to Donna. If only she could give him some of her limitless people skills too.

"Rachel?" he asked, his voice sounding loud, even to him. "Rachel? It's Dick."

"Dick?" squeaked out the reply.

Instantly his heart crumbled in relief. "Yeah. Yeah, hon, it's me." He rounded the front of the Jeep and found her, huddled into herself and looking absolutely terrified.

"Hey..." Immediately he was on his knees, hand large and gentle on her shoulder. She was shaking. "You wanna tell me what's going on, kid?"

"Oh, Dick!" she sobbed, leaping into his chest. He stumbled slightly, surprised, but regained his balance as only a Flying Grayson could.

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" she was sobbing, barely taking a breath between each wet apology.

"It's okay, Rachel." He listened to her cries, counting her breaths. Far too little for his liking. "Rachel, you need to breathe, okay? You're gonna hyperventilate."

"I'm sorry! I said we shouldn't go out! I said we shouldn't! But, but Jason had your keys and I was so worried and - I'm sorry, Dick! I'm sorry!"

"I'm not mad, Rachel. I promise. Just try and breathe, okay?"

"And then, the movie and I couldn't! I suddenly felt so sick we had to leave and I, I-- I don't know what happened but Jason said some, somebody was following us and I freaked out and I didn't mean to! I said we shouldn't have left!"

He hugged her tightly. What else was he supposed to do? She was crumbling, falling apart at the very seams and not listening to a word he was saying. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing back worried tears as he listened to his girl's strangled breathing, the way her voice choked when she gulped in too much air.

He couldn't think, starting to feel like he couldn't breathe himself. This was too much, far too much than he was capable of handling. He was no parent. He was no brother. He was just a fuck up, out here trying his best to make the world better for these three kids in it.

With a start, he realized he really couldn't breathe.

"R--Rachel!" he gasped, feeling icy blackness curl around his throat. The girl was still sobbing into his chest, completely unaware of what she was doing. Panic started to bloom near his heart. "Rachel, please. Breathe." The darkness tightened. She gripped his shirt in her little fists like a lifeline.

He was getting cold.

Images of Gotham flickered through his mind. They switched between the city he loved and one on fire so fast he couldn't figure out which was real. Pictures of Bruce, standing proudly, and laying crushed. Crushed and dead. "No..." he gasped, what little air left in his lungs coming out as a pathetic wheeze.

He saw fire and death. Bodies crumbled against straw, broken and twisted. A flash of red, a spark of white, and Donna fell over dead. A cyclops in black and orange was looking down on him with a sword pointed at his heart. Jason... oh god Jason _falling_. Falling and falling into the darkness, screaming and reaching for him. But he couldn't make it. He couldn't save him, Bruce, Donna, anyone.

He couldn't do anything right.

His eyes started to roll back.

He was a failure.

_"A FAILURE!"_

And he was going to die. He felt something grip at his heart and it felt a little like panic and was too kind to be hate. It was warm and pumped through him, melting his icy heart with soft words and kind promises.

He realized, somewhere in the back of his mind that was still clinging to consciousness, what it was. It was what he felt from his parents, from Clay, from everyone at Haly's. It was what he had been given from Donna with a teasing smirk and far too many second chances. It was in Bruce's tough love act when he ran away. It was what helped Kori break free from her destiny just in time to save the world. It was around him and a part of him and within him.

His eyes fluttered shut, a third kind of darkness taking over his vision.

"I love you, Rachel," he breathed with his very last breath.

The girl snapped to attention, staring at him in horror as he tipped and tipped and slowly starting falling. She gripped at his jacket, at his arms, his face, anywhere, to keep him upright. To keep him alive. But he was too big for her and dead weight in her shaking hands. He slumped forward, folding over her thin frame as if he was, after everything, still trying to protect her.

Maybe from herself.

"Dick! Dick, no! No, no, no! Come back to me! Come back, Dick, _PLEASE_!" she cried and screamed and whimpered. She clutched at him, grabbing desperately as she tried to keep them upright. He didn't stir. The black around her waited. "No..." she keened, a tear escaping her eye. She turned into his neck, hiding in his scent and strength and comfort.

"I love you too."

Dick surged back to life. Rachel yelped, dropping him in surprise. He landed with a thump on the pavement, coughing and gagging as he sucked in mouthfuls of air.

"Dick!" she shouted, throwing herself at his side. She cupped his face and he blinked at her, large eyes looking confused and scared. "It's okay, Dick. It's gonna be okay." She smiled wetly at him. "Just breathe, okay? In and out."

He followed her, soothed by her voice. His childhood training kicked in and he stopped panicking, fighting against his body to draw in one steady breath after the next.

"R...Rachel?" he croaked out, eyes searching her face. He pressed his large palms into her wet cheeks, looking down her arms and body, searching for any injury or wound. "Are you okay?"

She laughed at him. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

He smiled at that, relief washing over him. Slumping back on to the pavement, he sighed, taking another moment for the rest of the adrenaline to leak out. "Good." He nodded. "I'm glad."

He stiffened and she tensed all over, taken aback by the sudden change.

"Sorry," he wheezed out. Pulling his arms forward, he hefted himself so he was sitting up.

"Wh... wait!"

He paused, avoiding her eyes. Anger flared within her.

"The hell is wrong with you?!"

He had the decency to look surprised at that.

"What are you talking about?"

"Ever since we left that house you've been avoiding me! Acting like you can't stand to be around me! Like you hate... like there's something _wrong_ with me,” she shouted, voice wavering with thick, sticky tears. "I, I thought, at the antique shop, that maybe things were back to normal! But then Jason and Gar came back late and you snapped and I... I've never seen you like that before. Then you left and I didn't know where you were and then _you_ were late and then Jason had your keys and I... I thought..." She paused a second before lurching forward suddenly, slapping angrily at his arm. "I thought you left me!" she sobbed, continuing her assault as tears choked her. "I thought you broke your promise! That you thought I was a monster and couldn't stand to be around me and that you--" Her voice broke, hands slowing their attack. Slowly, as another sob shook its way through her frame, she reached up and covered her face in her hands, as if ashamed of what she was saying.

"I thought you hated me."

"Rachel...! Rachel, no! No, no, no, of course not!" Immediately he was at her side. She melted into him, hiding in the comfort of his large chest. "I don't hate you, Rachel. I could never hate you."

"But... but you avoided me!"

He sighed, hating himself more than he ever had. God strike him down; it would feel better than this. "I thought you didn't trust me anymore. After what happened at the house."

"What?" She looked at him, blue eyes cloudy in confusion. "Dick... NO! No, you saved me!"

"What?"

She wiped her face, pulling back enough to look at him better. "I was alone. I was so alone after Trigon took over everyone else. And they started beating up Gar and you... When he changed I woke up and everyone else was gone except for you and Gar. He wanted me to go fight, to run and save the world. But I knew, I _knew_ , I needed to save you first."

Dick nodded. "The vision. I remember. But, Rachel--"

"I might have snapped you out of it, but I didn't _save_ you, Dick. When I walked out to confront Trigon, when the fate of the world was on my shoulders, the only thing I could think about was you. Was you having my back. Was you loving and supporting me and always, _always_ coming back for me, no matter what I did." She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. _"You_ are what got me through that, Dick! The thought of you, of losing you, I couldn't bear it. So I fought."

"And you won."

"And I won. But only because I knew you had my back."

He smirked, looking bashful. "Well..." He slowly raised a trembling hand, booping the crystal in her forehead. "You also had otherworldly, demonic powers that helped too."

She rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at him. "Sure, and that. But, Dick, I'm not mad at you. I'm not afraid of you and I sure as hell don’t hate you."

He smiled at her, and she realized she had never seen him really smile before because god it was breathtaking and warm and made her feel so loved and safe. Quietly, he pulled her in close, and she wrapped her arms around him willingly. One hand stroked her hair and she listened to the steady rhythm of his very alive heartbeat. Softly, he kissed the top of her head and she felt his breath shudder before he was finally able to speak.

"I love you, Rachel. More than you can ever know. And I will never hate or leave you, no matter what you do. If you run away, I'll follow. If you burn down half the world, I'll be there with a dustpan and some kerosene for the rest. If you want to join a band and make really, _really_ tacky cover art--"

She laughed at him, a wet, choked sort of noise, but it warmed his dead heart a thousand times over.

"...Well, I might have to draw the line at that, but..."

Pulling back, she looked up at him mischievously. "Oh don't say that. I was thinking of planning a reunion tour with..."

" _Squirt_?"

"Yes! Squirt Does Its Thing - The Squirtening!"

His laughter bounced off the walls and shook him down to his core. "Okay, you do that and you are totally disowned!"

"You promise?"

"Look, running away, I get. Can't say I haven't been there myself. Burning the world down? Well, who hasn't wanted that at least once or twice? But joining Squirt Does Its Thing - The Squirtening?"

She nodded expectantly.

He shook his head, slicing a hand through the air. "Nope. Totally unforgivable."

Grinning at him, she sat back. "Good to know that's where the line is, then."

He considered it, making a face at her. "It is, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

The two heard footprints pad toward them in the distance. "Rachel? Dick?" Gar called.

"You two still alive in there?" Jason added. "If not, do I get the Porsche?"

Dick pulled himself to his feet with a cleansing sigh, offering her a hand. "What do you say, Squirt?"

She took it and let him lift her upright. The nausea from earlier was gone, being replaced with the bone-deep exhaustion that crying always left her with. Still, her heart was full and warm. She bounced to her feet lively, grinning up at him.

"Call me Rache."

A fond chuckle reverberated through his throat. "Alright." He bowed slightly, waving his arm for her. "After you, Rache."

"Why thank you." She bowed back, fixing her many layers as she led them down the alley. They met Gar and Jason at the entrance, Gar quickly snatching her in a deep hug.

"You okay?"

She returned it, squeezing him affectionately. "I am. I promise."

Dick wandered over to Jason as the younger two went over what happened.

"Jason..."

"I shouldn't have stolen your keys, man, I get it! I shouldn't've gone for a joy ride or snuck into the movies or convinced those two to come with me. I've been an ass, I know. And I should've texted you earlier about being late. I should've--"

"Jason, I'm really proud of you."

The boy stuttered to a stop and Dick will remember the face he made until his last breath. Frowning, the teen cupped his ear.

"Say again? Think I had my music too loud."

Dick chuckled at him. "Probably." He straightened, pocketing his hands. "I said I'm really proud of you. No, not for stealing the car or… all that other stuff you mentioned. …Did you break into the theater?”

“I think that’s kind of irrelevant at this point.”

“Okay. But, Jason, do you know what I thought, when I saw your motel room was empty and you all were gone?"

Jason shrugged. "Goddamnit, these kids?"

"Well, okay, yes," Dick conceded, not expecting the guess to be quite so accurate. "But my second thought was--"

"I'm gonna kill the little bastards--"

"At least Jason is with them." Despite his best efforts, he actually laughed out loud at the face the kid made at that particular comment. He was totally glowing, looking at Dick as if he had just scored tickets to the big game - or Hamilton.

"You... you're joking?"

"No. No, I'm not. Jason, I give you a lot of grief about things, but only because I want you to be better. Because I _know_ you can be. You have real leadership inside of you. I can see it. You just need to refine the edges a little bit and you'll... well, you'll be one hell of a Robin one day.”

The kid crossed his arms. "Um, actually, I already am one hell of a Robin _today_."

"That's not what I mean," Dick smiled. "I mean whatever comes next, whoever you become after Robin, is going to be something kids like them..." He pointed to Rachel and Gar, "And kids like you will gravitate to for guidance and training."

Jason made a face that was, in a lot of ways, unkind. "You mean I'm gonna be like you when I grow up? Gross."

For all he was worth, Dick didn’t have the heart to disagree. "Yeah, pretty gnarly, I know. But it's not so bad. At least I got car-thieving, uncommunicative brats like you to keep me young."

Jason laughed, ducking under the playful punch. "Hey watch it, old man! You don’t slow down and you're gonna be retiring to Florida and apple sauce sooner than you might like!"

Dick raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I give up..."

"Good."

"When The Flash starts to fly!"

Suddenly Dick was launching himself at the younger Robin, catching him totally unawares. The teen squawked in surprise, trying and failing laughably as he tried to fend off the taller, stronger, more experienced Dick Grayson.

Gar and Rachel, hearing the commotion, turned just in time to see Dick grab Jason in a headlock, relentlessly burrowing his fist into his hair. He was yelling something about "take it back!", to which Jason spat out a "fuck you, old man!", which resulted in his hair getting even more ruffled.

"Oh, I _so_ want in on this!" Gar cheered. In a few quick strides he was entering the fray, throwing himself on Dick in a piggyback ride.

"Hey! Hey! Fowl!" Dick shouted, teetering sideways under the unexpected weight.

"Nope! Just me!" Gar quipped back, throwing himself side to side to throw Dick off balance.

"Yeah! Get him Beast Boy!" Jason cheered, flailing at the arm still locked around his neck. "Show him what for!"

Rachel crossed her arms, watching the spectacle with amusement. In the distance she could see a large broken window and a pile of bodies. And yet, here, in front of her, was three males who seemed utterly incapable of boiling water without setting something on fire. She chuckled, shaking her head.

Idiots. The lot of them.

"Rachel! Rachel, don't just stand there!" Gar was summoning, a laugh in his voice. "We almost got him!"

"You almost got nothing, my good man!" Dick hollered back, bringing his other hand up to swat at Gar's green hair.

"Oh shit!"

Jason looked up at her best he could, being forced to stumble this way and that. "Get in here, Rachel! Go for his legs!"

Dick caught her eye and paled. "Rachel! Rachel, no! Don't you dare!"

She smirked dangerously, making a show of rolling up her sleeves. She stomped the ground, pawing at it like a bull ready to charge.

Jason waved at her. "Hell yeah, Rachel!"

"Mess him up!" Gar encouraged.

She looked back at Dick, who held out his hand. As if that would save him.

With a loud, shrieking battle cry, she was launching forward.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Six days later, the group arrived in California. Dick was at the wheel, Jason nodding off to his music in shotgun, and Gar and Rachel trading the monster cards they had collected in the back. The trunk was populated with souvenirs of their journey, a sparse collection of nicks and knacks they had whined and begged Dick to into buying for them.

Jason had found a new backpack, and with it, he more comfortably carried the weight of his responsibilities. He still had a long way to go until he was ready to take command of even a small operation, but so far Dick had kept his promise of being honest with the kid in his assessments. He was impatient, rambunctious, and impulsive. Considering others before he spoke or made a decision still didn't come easy to him - so used to being on his own - but he was learning. Dick was confident that, with a little more time and hard work, he'd make a fine Robin. And even a finer Titan.

Gar had amassed a series of shirts. Some sweatshirts, but mostly comfortable tees. They were soft and flexible and fit him like they were tailor-made. Wearing them - with their bright logos and tacky phrases - made him feel like he had a new skin. A skin that was entirely his own. Not owned and controlled by someone else, not manipulated by fear and grief. The shirts made him feel like people were seeing him - not the beast and not the traumatized runaway. Like they were actually seeing who he was inside, and, for the first time, he wasn't afraid of it.

Rachel, of course, had her record. She never planned on listening to it and she hadn't the first notion of what "tijuana" was, but she cherished it all the same. For her, having something so frivolous was a luxury. Vinyl's were owned by people who knew what they liked and were stable enough to have gathered a collection. And while she may not have her taste in music nailed down quite yet - as was evident when her DJ privileges were revoked not even a day out into their trip - she knew without a doubt _who_ she liked.

And she liked the Titans. She liked Jason and his pouty face and over-the-top bravado. He irked her, he annoyed her, and he pulled her hair (only once, though, before he had learned _that_ lesson), but she liked him. She didn't want him to leave, not ever. For all his performances, he was a good kid deep down. He was safe and loyal and fiercely protective and she appreciated that in a person. In a friend.

Gar was the one who gave her life. He was her first real friend her own age. He was never afraid of her, instead awed and mystified by her powers. His bright eyes and shimmering personality added some much-needed color to her dull, dismal little world. And her world would stop spinning if he left it.

Dick was a different story.

Gar's eye caught something shiny outside and he yelled about it excitedly. Jason snapped back to reality with a snarl and slap on the knee. Rachel laughed at him, climbing across the seat to gaze out Gar's window with him. Their faces pressed against the glass, they craned their necks for a better view.

With a whizz, the window rolled down, a warm breeze and the smell of salt rolling into the vehicle in waves.

"I can see it! I can see it!" Gar squealed excitedly, pointing out the window.

"Hey! Hands are arms inside the vehicle at all times," Dick scolded lightly from the front. He was giving them a look over the rims of his sunglasses and winked at Rachel when she caught his eye.

"Yeah, didn't you learn anything from Points Peak?" Jason grumbled. He fished in his backpack for his own shades.

Gar quickly drew his arm in. "Right. Sorry."

Dick grinned at him as he pulled off the highway, taking the exit to San Francisco. "Don't worry about it."

Rachel looked back out the window, desperate to get a glance. She could hear the birds, could practically taste the salt on her tongue. She just couldn't see it.

"It's not like you're never gonna get another chance," Dick continued. Between the buildings, Rachel could catch a sparkling, shimmering glimpse in the distance, but it wasn’t enough.

Dick took another left and finally the skyline parted. It took her breath away.

"It’s not like it’s going anywhere. It is the ocean after all.”


End file.
